


Agency

by TheThirteenthHour



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: FireRed & LeafGreen | Pokemon FireRed & LeafGreen Versions
Genre: Coming of Age, Decisions, Difficult Decisions, Family Issues, Gen, Growing Up, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Nuzlocke Challenge, POV Animal, POV Second Person, big shoes to fill, growing a spine specifically jeez
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 62
Words: 75,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirteenthHour/pseuds/TheThirteenthHour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to do what you're told to do. One day, you wonder: What if you didn't?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something of an experimental work. I wanted to play around with second person and, for once, focus more on character than anything else. It's been a bit of a trip lol
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> If you'd prefer not to receive a reply from me, just sign your comment with "whisper" and I will quietly appreciate your support~ <3

The first thing you feel when the light hits you is confusion.

This isn’t unusual for you, though you have yet to get accustomed to it. You’re young, still. Young enough to not understand how the light works or where it comes from, but you’re beginning to notice a pattern. You’re beginning to think that red means you must fall asleep—quickly and dreamlessly—and that white means you’re waking up, but not always in the same place.

So you are confused. It takes you a moment to orient yourself, to realize and take comfort in the familiarity of this room. It’s a room of white and tile, a room of blinking lights and mechanical whirs, one that smells musty as if the windows haven’t been opened in days. There’s the faint scent of bleach behind that. To you, though, it smells like metal. Like the smell of sweat and the outside that the girl standing in front of you brought in with her.

There is a nervous, frightened thought in your head when you look up at her, and you don't know where it comes from.

Her lips smile down at you from a round face, but her eyes don’t. Her eyes, narrow and brown, gleam in the fluorescent light. Their corners aren’t crinkled with mirth. Her hair is short and black and falls forward in a way that shades her cheeks and keeps the rest of the world out. Right now, you are the only one who can see her face.

You feel like something is wrong, but you don’t know what.

“Squirtle is a great choice!” you hear that old man say, the one you’ve come to associate with the sound _oak_. You look up at him at the mention of your name, but he isn’t looking down at you. He’s looking at the girl.

The girl hesitates. It’s visible in the way she pinches her lips, in the way her eyebrows draw a little closer together, in the way her eyes narrow a smidge. You notice these things, but you don’t interpret them as hesitation. You don’t interpret them as anything. You just think of that nervous, frightened thought that you can’t place.

The thought is still there when the girl crouches down and reaches for the top of your head. You close your eyes in content when she rubs her fingers against your scalp. You don’t notice that the thought wanes. You only hear her quiet, “Hi there,” unsure that the sound is directed at you.

“Will you be taking him then, Naomi?”

The hand pulls away from your head, prompting you to look at the girl as she stands.

She smiles at you again with her lips and nods at _oak_. “Yeah!” she says, with much more enthusiasm than her expression suggests. “He seems nice enough. I’ll take him.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Oak_ gives the girl some things—a small red box and five more of those red-and-white spheres—before she looks at you with a less worried smile and drier eyes and urges you to follow her. You remember that nervous and frightened thought from earlier and realize that it’s gone. You can’t tell if there’s anything in its place, but you don’t think very hard about it anyway.

“Be careful out there!” the old man calls as you leave. You turn back to him, unsure if those words were meant for you or for her, but he has already faced away. So you turn to the girl again and warble a question in your throat. She doesn’t hear you. Instead of responding to you, she looks over her shoulder with a smile and tells the old man, “Will do!”

She doesn’t say anything to you until you both step outside, until heat and brightness hit you in the face, and you suddenly recall the river where the old man would take you for exercise. There is dirt beneath your feet, hot and firm and grainy. You like it better than the tile inside.

“Ah, so uh,” she says, still walking. You look up at her, but you need to squint and shield your eyes from the sun. “I’m Naomi,” she says, but then she stops and mutters something you can’t hear. She crouches so she can look you in the eye. Her eyes are dry now. She smiles, but still not with happiness. “Uh, I’m Naomi.”

You blink. That nervous thought comes back again.

“And I kinda need you to help me with something, okay?” she says, her pitch rising at the end in some show of happiness.

Something doesn’t fit, but you don’t respond.

“Though,” she laughs nervously, “I mean, I guess it’s not like you really understand me.”

You really don’t. But you stare at her intently, as though you’re grasping her every word; it’s hard to look away from level eye contact.

“But uh, I just kind of need you to work with me, okay, Squirtle?”

 _Squirtle_. You recognize that sound, so you open your mouth and warble loudly.

It seems to please her. The sorry look in her eyes lets up, so when she smiles, it seems like an actual smile. She places a hand on your head again and says, “Thanks.”

The nervous thought leaves, but you don’t notice it. Instead, you notice the thought of compassion and individuality that replaces it, though you don’t understand it. You notice it before you notice the intent look on the girl’s face. She pulls her hand back and mutters, “Huh, I should probably give you a name…”

She stays there for a moment, crouched before you, looking at you thoughtfully. She hums. You only blink at her. When she finally smiles—with her lips _and_ her eyes—you tilt your head. “How about Kyou?”

You don’t know what those sounds mean, but you think of yourself.

She points and nods at you. “Kyou.”

You stare at her finger.

“Squirtle,” she says, poking you in the chest. You understand that sound. You look up at her.

She pokes you again in the chest and says, “Kyou.”

And you think you know what the sound _kyou_ means. You think that she means it as yourself, in the same way that s _quirtle_ does. You think of yourself and warble curiously at her.

She smiles and hobbles backward on crouched legs, digging two shallow ruts with bright red sneakers as she moves. “Kyou, come here.”

You blink. You know what _come here_ means. Oak has said that to you several times before. So even with the sound _kyou_ before it, you understand. You move forward on thick legs, tail raised above the dirt path. She smiles when you start walking toward her, and smiles more widely when you reach her.

She pets the top of your head, and you lean into her touch without noticing.

“Good job, Kyou!”

You warble happily.


	3. Chapter 3

You follow her quietly to the edge of town. You lag behind on your short, stubby legs, but she’s kind enough to slow down so you can catch up whenever you fall too far behind. She smiles nicely at you and never once seems annoyed.

“Naomi!”

You know that voice. It belongs to a young man named Kenneth, as you’ve learned from the way he responds any time someone makes the sound _kenneth_. Right now, you also learn that he and the girl must know each other, because she greets him with a warm, “Hey. Thanks for waiting…”

Kenneth approaches with sure steps and a smile. His forehead is shiny. You notice this when he looks down at you. His eyes are as brown as the girl’s, but they aren’t shiny like hers were earlier.

Kenneth looks at the girl and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, pushing brown hair out of his face. “Of course.” He glances at you. “So you _did_ go with the Squirtle.” He grins widely at the girl, eyes bright and teeth showing. You recognize the look. It’s the kind of look you’ve seen on his face when he talks too much (and too enthusiastically) with the old man. “What’d you name him?”

“Kyou,” she says. You wonder about yourself. You look up at her, almost in want of reassurance, but she isn’t looking at you. She’s looking at Kenneth.

“Kyou, huh?” You take a moment to shift your gaze to Kenneth instead. Between the two _kyou_ ’s, you think maybe you’re supposed to do something. So you warble curiously at him. It seems to be the right thing to do, because he smiles at you. “He’s cute,” he says. He looks up from you, back at the girl, and you follow his gaze. “So I guess you’re ready to go now?”

The girl shrugs and looks away from him. You follow her gaze to the grass before you, but you can’t figure out what caught her attention. The grass isn’t even moving there. But maybe that’s what’s wrong. Watching the grass not move worries you. “I guess,” she answers.

Something shifts. It’s not that you hear anything. You feel something, somehow. So you look up at the girl, and you catch a glimpse of Kenneth’s face when you do. He isn’t smiling anymore.

“Uh, well,” he says, “what if we have a battle? I know you’re readier than you think you are, so—“

“Well it’s—” the girl starts. She shrugs. She’s still watching the grass at your feet. She’s smiling like she was earlier, with her lips and not her eyes, and you want to pull into your shell. “It’s not really about the battles or anything.”

“I know, it’s about your sister.”

You feel it shift again. Her smile disappears. You warble quietly and tuck your chin into your shell.

“Right?” he asks.

The silence that follows lasts for too long. For so long that the quiet, quiet sound of the breeze above you feels too loud to you. For so long that you (and maybe the girl) flinch when Kenneth suddenly says, “Naomi.”

You aren’t sure yet what that sound means.

He says, “Naomi,” again, and the girl finally looks away from your feet and at him. You think of when the professor made that _naomi_ sound and start to think that’s her name, just like how yours is _Squirtle_ —and maybe _Kyou_. “What’s it about, then?”

She sighs and looks away again, this time up at the air instead of at the grass. It annoys you for some reason, enough that you pull your chin out of your shell without noticing. “We could just… battle, yeah?”

A moment passes before Kenneth sighs, “Yeah.”

Naomi gives him a look before turning to you. She’s smiling softly, but her brow is furrowed. “Would you be okay with battling for me?”

You tilt your head. The _battle_ sound is familiar to you. It makes you think of motion, focus, power, pulses. You don’t know why.

The wrinkles in her brow deepen. “Oh, right, it’d be your first battle, wouldn’t it…”

You lower your head. Given the look in her eyes, despite the smile on her face, you think you must have disappointed her. But you haven’t.

“Do you want to hold off?” Kenneth asks.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she says as she looks at him again. “I mean, if you take it easy, anyway.”

Kenneth laughs softly. “Naomi, you know I’m not a battler.”

“Hey, _you_ challenged _me_.”

You flinch at the sudden flash of light that appears beside you. It reminds you of what happened earlier, when you first saw Naomi. It reminds you vaguely of other times when the light appeared and suddenly you were looking at the old man or one of his helpers or even the river.

You thought the light was something that only happened to you, around you, but now you see that it has brought some kind of creature into existence between you and Kenneth. 

He’s taller than you, slimmer than you, with a longer reach, thinner legs, and a smooth slip of tail capped by something orange and flickering. He opens his mouth to reveal small, sharp teeth and lets out a squeaky growl that you think is supposed to scare you. It doesn’t.

“Kyou?”

It takes a moment for you to think of yourself and remember. You turn back to look at Naomi. She smiles when you do, and you smile a little in return.

“Ready?” she asks you. You don’t know how to respond.

“Are you taking the first move?” Kenneth asks.

Naomi looks up from you. “If that’s fine with you!”

“By all means.”

She smiles. You expect her to lock eyes with you again, but her gaze immediately goes to the creature before you, and you follow it. “Alright, Kyou, use Tackle!”

 _Tackle_. You know what that is. Though you’ve never heard the sound before, the thought reaches you. Your memory of it is foggy, old, almost instinctual, and you don’t question why that is. You just drop to all four legs and run forward, barreling toward the creature in front of you.

“James, Growl!”

The creature opens his mouth again and lets out another squeaky noise, one that’s louder this time. More distracting. Enough so that you falter in your step, but you ram your shoulder into his chest nonetheless. It hurts when you do, but you shake it off quickly, reveling in the rest that your legs can take when your momentum comes to a crashing halt at the creature’s body, reveling in the way your opponent folds around you, falls back, and rolls away. The smell of dirt and grass fills your nose.

“I guess starters _are_ naturals,” you hear Naomi say. She sounds impressed, but you’re not sure if her tone is directed at you.

“They’re bred for this sort of thing, you know,” Kenneth says. You don’t pay much attention to the sounds he’s making, though. You focus on the orange creature as he stands upright and takes his stance against you. The thing on his tail keeps flickering, and it’s too bright to look at. You keep your eyes on his eyes. “I could tell you more about it if you ever want to know.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Naomi laughs.

“Right, right. No appreciation for this sort of thing,” he jokes. “James, Scratch!”

The creature runs forward, mouth open, arm reared. You barely remember the _james_ sound and figure that’s this creature’s name.

“Your shell!” Naomi shouts. But you don’t turn, so she says, “Kyou, use your shell!” and somehow you know. You can see in your head what she means by _use your shell_. You drop onto your stomach and pull your limbs inside the instant James’ claw connects with the lip of your shell. You wince inside the darkness of your shell, but you can see Naomi from just beyond the opening. She feels trustworthy.

She looks directly at you, and you poke your head out and crane your neck to meet her gaze. “Now spin around and go for the Tackle!”

The gesture she makes with her hand helps, but you don’t need it. Again, you can see in your head what she means by _spin around_.

So you turn on your stomach to face James again before letting your limbs out and pushing off four legs to ram your shoulder into him.

James is steadier this time, only stumbling back rather than falling. He snarls at you, brow creased, eyes as alive as the tip of his tail. But the sound he makes still isn’t threatening.

He rears his claw back again, this time without any sound from Kenneth.

“Your shell!”

You duck into your shell again, almost instinctively. The claw rakes over your back, the sound ragged and hollow and scratching your ears. It drowns out Naomi’s soft laugh. You would’ve liked to hear it.

“Go for one last Tackle!”

You push your legs out first, then your arms, and when you shove yourself forward, the top of your shell collides with James’ chin. You hear his cry cut off by sheer surprise, hear the resounding thud inside your shell. He topples back, tail out on the dirt path, head on the grass, tiny claws over his chin while his legs kick out in pain. He whines. You poke your head out mostly from concern, standing close to his tail, and you finally feel the heat from the light at its end.

“Naomi!” Kenneth yells, voice high and quick and panicked. You shrink a little, drawing your chin back into your shell.

“Sorry! Sorry, I-I’m sure he’s fine!”

Neither of them sounds happy to you, especially not Naomi. You lower your head. Suddenly the sound of your pounding heart feels louder.

You hadn’t noticed it earlier. Your heartbeat.

James sits up when Kenneth approaches, still whimpering, claws still at his mouth, eyes shining like Naomi’s were earlier. He doesn’t open his mouth. Kenneth does, and he peers inside for a few seconds before saying, “Probably just bruised your chin.”

“See, he’s fine.”  
   
Naomi sounds more reassuring, even relieved, so you walk away from Kenneth and toward her. She pats the top of your head suddenly and smiles down at you. It’s enough to make you feel better. “You did great, Kyou.”

You smile and warble.


	4. Chapter 4

You stand beside Naomi as she and Kenneth have a few words. James is gone now. He disappeared into a red light that shot out from the ball in Kenneth’s hand, and you don’t know how to explain that. You don’t understand how that works yet, so you wonder if it has happened to you before, before the white light that brings the river or the lab—the world into view for you.

You don’t pay attention to Naomi until Kenneth lets out a big sigh. “Naomi, you’ll be fine, I promise,” he says, more warmly than you’ve ever heard him speak before. “You said you wanted to give it a try, right?”

Naomi is looking at _him_ now, not at the grass. You figure that whatever was wrong with the grass before has been fixed now. Maybe you and James managed to fix it while you battled. “Well, yeah…” she tells Kenneth. You tilt your head at her, trying to see her face, but she’s too tall.

“So give it a try. See how you feel about it. And—you know, if you ever need anything, just call me.”

She nods. Just barely. Just enough that you think you catch the faintest hint of a smile on her face. “I know.”

“Don’t forget I kinda know what it’s like. With Gramps and all. ”

She nods again, this time enough that you can see an actual smile on her face. “I know, I know.” It almost sounds like she’s laughing.

“So you’re gonna head out?”

You frown a little. Something stirs in your stomach, something nervous that reminds you of that frightened thought from earlier. “Yeah,” Naomi sighs. She pulls over the brown backpack slung over one shoulder and pats it. “Already packed and all.”

There’s a pause in their talk, one that lasts long enough that you look over to Kenneth to see if something’s wrong. Nothing seems to be. He’s smiling. He even looks proud. But that feeling is still in your stomach. “And, hey, let me know where you’ll be,” he tells her. “If I’m doing any field studies nearby—”

“Yeah, we’ll meet up!”

They hug each other goodbye, and though the nerves remain in your stomach and in your muscles, they calm down. The frightened thought, at least, isn’t as loud in your head.

“Good luck with everything,” Kenneth tells her.

“You too.”

He steps back and waves and leaves. You watch him walk away rolling that ball between his fingers. You wonder again about James and where he went and how he got there, but those thoughts are cut short when Naomi speaks up. “He’s worried,” she says, though you don’t realize that she’s talking to you. “Which, he doesn’t have to be,” she laughs. “I mean, I know what I’m doing—”

Her sudden silence invites your attention. You look up at her. She’s frowning at the grass again, and you frown at it with her. It was supposed to be fixed. So you growl at it, though the noise you make sounds more like a grumbling stomach.

You hear her laugh softly. “Kyou.”

You don’t hesitate to look up at her.

She gives you that not-happy smile again, and it worries you. “I need you to be a good battler for me.”

There was that sound again. _Battle_. Right next to that frightened thought. 

She pats your head. “Alright?”

You shut your eyes and smile at her touch, pushing up against her hand. When you look at her again, she’s smiling for real.


	5. Chapter 5

The two of you hang around the outskirts of town for a few hours. Naomi helps you associate specific sounds with some actions: _jump out of the way_ , _get back_ , _dodge_ , _duck_. She shows you what _arms_ and _legs_ are, the difference between a _head_ and a _tail_. She pits you against a few of the feathered creatures around here and teaches you how to aim for their _wings_ with your newly-learned Bubble.

It helps that you can see the meaning of those sounds before Naomi fully explains them, but you don’t grasp all of them. You don’t quite get what she means by _left_ and _right_ when it comes to dodging or moving a certain way. But Naomi is kind and patient about it. She’s okay with continuing through the grassland even though you don’t completely understand those sounds yet.

But after learning what _arms_ , _legs_ , _tails_ , and _heads_ are—after having to associate sounds with things that can’t respond to their names—you quickly figure out that the purple creature in the grass is called _rattata_ ; that’s what Naomi said when she pointed at one that didn’t respond to her.

“I want to get one of those,” she tells you. She’s watching the Rattata intensely, no longer pointing at her. You understand she’s making some sort of comment about the creature, but you don’t know what. “It’s a pretty solid Pokémon for us to have on our side right now. It gets Hyper Fang early and can deal a good amount of damage… Kyou,” she says, and though she doesn’t pull her attention from the Rattata, you understand that what she’s saying is meant for you, “I need you to battle it and weaken it so I can catch it, okay?”

You think of that ball. The red and white one that held James. You blink at her.

It’s only your lack of motion that makes her look at you again, though she nods toward the Rattata. “Go ahead, battle it. Like you did with the Charmander and all those Pidgey.” You remember your racing heart, the Charmander’s claws, sharp wingbeats and feathers. You understand what she means. “You’ll be fine, promise,” she adds with a smile.

You bound forward into the grass without thought. The Rattata’s ears twitch at the sound you make, and she takes a careful step back. You thought she might run away like the Pidgey who were so prone to kicking up sand and flying away at the first sign of trouble, but you don’t know that Rattata are more territorial.

This Rattata sweeps her tail back and forth and fluffs up the fur around her neck. She glares at you. She hisses. Her front teeth are long. Sharp. Potentially deadly, even if she doesn’t know how to fight with them yet. But she doesn’t intimidate you.

“Go for a Tackle!”

You run forward as quickly as your legs can move you, arms tucked in, head ducked. You keep a careful eye on the Rattata. You only hear the grass rustling around you. You only smell the rich soil beneath your feet.

The Rattata squeals as you barrel toward her, but she quickly darts around you before you reach her. And before you can turn your head to see where she’s gone, you feel the dull thud in your shell, feel something shove you forward and tip your balance enough that you fall onto your stomach. The scent of dirt again, and grass, and trees, and something spikes in your tail, something sharp and painful that makes you cry out and wonder where Naomi is.

“Kyou, swing your tail around!” she shouts. She sounds collected, but there’s that thought of worry in the back of your mind. “Just get it into a position where you can hit it with Bubble!”

You only process the sounds _tail_ and _bubble_ amidst all her words, and that sharpness in your tail that makes you wince with every slight movement makes your eyes sting from pain. Your tail rises in agony, the tip of it feeling like it will tear and fall off with the weight of the Rattata on it, and slams against the ground. You hear the Rattata squeak, you relish in hearing her cry out in pain, and you raise your tail and slam it again— _squeak_ —again— _squeak_ —again— _squeak_ —until she’s hardly holding on. And you spin on your stomach and raise water in your throat and fire a Bubble into her face without seeing the way she looks at you with anger and pain.

She squeals when Bubble hits, and there’s a thought of joy in your head. You think it’s yours.

Suddenly there’s that red light in your vision again, and then the red and white ball, and suddenly the Rattata is gone. You climb to your feet as quickly as you can and watch the ball cautiously as it shakes.

Shakes.

Shakes.

 _Click_.

“Yes!”


	6. Chapter 6

You don’t learn your name as quickly as Kyou did. You don’t learn your name through sound like he did. (Human words are strange to you, after all.) You learn your name through thought. It’s not your own thought, though, and you recognize this. But you don’t know where the thought comes from.

The thought is of you and of selfhood, but you interpret it as scent, in the way you use it to identify other Rattata. You don’t know what your own scent is like, but this _mika_ sound must be like it.

“Mika…” the girl says to you while carefully stroking the side of your face. She smells sweet. Like sweat and metal, yes, but beneath that you smell the fragrance in her clothes, and beneath that, her. The closest comparisons you have are the leaves of pecha trees.

“Yeah!” she says again, smiling. “I think Mika will do for you.” You stand cautiously as she pets you, tail still, ears slightly flattened, whiskers tipped back. Aside from the Squirtle and the ball with the red light, the girl doesn’t seem to be a threat. You know what the red and white lights mean. You’ve seen them countless times on this route. The Pokémon taken by those lights never come back.

You know that you’re staying with this girl and her Squirtle.

The girl’s eyes scrunch up in a deeper smile, and she gives you one last scratch before pulling her hand back and gesturing toward herself. “If it means anything, I’m Naomi,” she tells you. Her voice is a little unsteady. You think of nervousness, but it’s really embarrassment. The girl points toward the Squirtle, and you follow her hand, bristling your fur when you look at him again. “And this is Kyou.”

Despite the show of aggression you put on, the Squirtle doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. He narrows his eyes at you (you remember how sharply and tactlessly you sank your teeth into his tail), but he doesn’t act. It’s obvious to you that it isn’t fear that keeps him from attacking you, but you keep your fur bristled; better to keep up appearances than show that you’re willing to back down.

“Uh,” the girl says. There’s nervousness again. Actual nervousness this time, not embarrassment. “Let’s, uh…” She moves to sit between you and the Squirtle, blocking your view of him. You sweep your tail once, but you let your fur fall. The air doesn’t feel as tense anymore.

The girl carefully rests one hand in front of you, an invitation for you to come closer. “Let’s try not to make enemies out of each other, okay?”

You don’t know what she’s saying, but you think of alliances. You think of packs and littermates, so you approach her hand and nose her fingers.

The girl, at least, isn’t so bad.


	7. Chapter 7

Eventually the Squirtle stops feeling like an enemy to you. He’s not an ally to you yet, but he doesn’t turn any of his aggression toward you as he battles a few wild Pidgey at the girl’s command. (And only wild Pidgey. The girl takes care not to battle any Rattata.)

The girl doesn’t battle with you, which you’re grateful for. Instead, you get to sit by her feet while she orders the Squirtle to use Bubble and Tackle to strike the Pidgey. “They’re good for target practice,” she tells you at one point, even though you don’t understand the sounds she makes. You think it must be something positive, though, given the smile she wears and the way she lets the birds fly off after one hit.

You all sit on the side of the path to Viridian for a break, and she pats your head before offering you some dried fruit from her bag. “I’ll let you get some practice soon, promise,” she tells you with a smile. You don’t know what she’s saying, but you think back on the Squirtle practicing against the Pidgey. You look toward him and watch the way he calmly eats grass and the leaves of nearby bushes.

“He’s safe to eat that,” she says, more to herself than to you. “There aren’t any poisonous plants here.”

You twitch your nose and suddenly remember the dried fruits in the girl’s hand. It mostly smells sweet. A combination of dried oran, persim, and pecha berries. You sniff them carefully before starting to eat.

Something rings.

It’s loud, sharp, and makes you hiss and jump away from the girl’s hand.

“Sorry, sorry!” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the offending object. It’s a glowing, white rectangle. She taps it and holds it to her ear, giving you an apologetic look and pushing the food toward you again. You don’t accept it. You keep glaring at the thing in her hand. “Hey, Bree,” she says into it.

You watch the thing carefully. You’ve flattened your ears and pinned your whiskers back. Your tail sweeps behind you without you noticing.

The girl smiles. “Oh, yeah! I already got everything from the professor. I’m pretty close to Viridian. Maybe just another half hour?”

The rectangle doesn’t seem to be doing anything. You relax a bit, but your nose and whiskers keep twitching. All you smell is dirt, trees, and those dried berries.

“You think?” She hums and looks north, like she’ll find the answer to whatever she’s talking about in the distance. “Well, I guess I could stay in Viridian for the rest of the day, then. It’d at least give me a chance to get to know my Pokémon better, and maybe give them a chance to get to know each other.”

Your ears are still tipped back, but you turn your attention to the berries. You sniff at them again and continue eating, ears swiveling in preparation for another loud ringing noise.

“They’re at least not giving each other the stink eye anymore.” She sounds amused. You think of the Squirtle.

“Just a Rattata.” She pauses. You notice, but it’s no cause for alarm. You keep eating. “I know— I-I _know_ but—”

And something knots in your stomach. The berries, maybe?

“I know but I… I kinda wanted to try on my own for a bit…?”

No, not the berries. Nervousness. You look up, and you spot the Squirtle looking toward the girl. Leaf stems and grass blades poke out of his mouth.

“Yeah…”

You twitch your ears in the brief silence that follows, waiting for something. But nothing comes, so you go back to your food. You hear the other voice coming through the rectangle as you crush the berries in your mouth. They’re sweet, but not overwhelmingly so.

“I will, I will,” the girl says.

You swallow the last of the berries.

“Bye.” She pockets the rectangle and places a hand on your head when she realizes you’ve finished eating. That thought of nervousness is still there.


	8. Chapter 8

You don’t remember when you fell asleep. You remember the city in the distance, the skyline you’ve seen many times before on the edge of Route 1.

You remember the girl patting you and the Squirtle on your heads and saying something with her human sounds: “I’m gonna call you guys back to keep you safe, okay?” She pulled out those red and white balls and pointed one at each of you. “Cars in the street and all.” Then the red light.

And that’s it.

And now you’re elsewhere, with vigor in your limbs again, in a place that smells sharp and strange and itchy. You sneeze when you come to, and you keep twitching your nose and pawing at it afterward. It’s uncomfortable for you not to have the smell of dirt and trees around you.

You get off your haunches and attempt to survey this new place, but your claws get caught in the wooly ground. They catch each time you lift a paw. You glare at the floor. This is the first time you’ve ever had to deal with carpet.

“Well, this is where we’re staying today,” the girl sighs. She falls back on a big puffy white thing in the middle of the room and pulls that rectangle out of her pocket. You twitch your ears at the sight of it, but you otherwise ignore it in favor of taking in your surroundings.

It’s small. Cramped. The puffy white thing takes up a lot of space, and there are some wooden structures that smell too clean and itchy. There are two small mats on the floor that you and the Squirtle could easily fit on. They smell itchy too.

“There,” the girl mutters. She stuffs the phone back into her pocket.

You sneeze again. The girl and the Squirtle look at you.

“Aw, are you okay, Mika?”

_Mika_. You think of yourself.

You don’t respond to the girl, but she laughs softly anyway. She climbs down from the bed and sits on the floor, leaning her back against the end of the bed. “Kyou, Mika, come ‘ere.”

_Kyou_. The Squirtle goes to her with little hesitation, but you stand and watch the two of them from a few feet away.

The girl reaches toward you. “Come on, Mika.”

_Mika_. You think of yourself again. You think of the dried berries she held in her hand earlier. You approach carefully.

You don’t relax until she scratches you behind your ears for a few seconds, smiling all the while. But then the scratches stop and she reaches over for the Squirtle, both hands around his stomach, lifting, and placing him beside you. You take a step back and eye him carefully, but you don’t glare. You don’t hiss. You don’t bristle your fur or sweep your tail.

The Squirtle looks at you carefully and then sits down. The biggest reaction he gives you is moving his tail behind himself and away from you.

“You’ll be friends soon enough,” the girl says happily.

_Friends_. You think of packs and alliances again.

“Alright, so we’ll have to get an actual lunch later, or just a big dinner. Maybe we’ll poke around Route 22 to get some practice in…”

You approach the Squirtle carefully, sniffing. The closer you get to his feet, the more you sense the smell of dirt and grass again. You smell something sour that reminds you of the river.

“And tomorrow, we can just go straight to Pewter, since Giovanni’s off…”

He warbles at you, and you look up at him. You squeak quietly. A peace offering of sorts, as though he can understand you.

You think of positive things. You don’t see the girl smiling at you.


	9. Chapter 9

It takes a while, but you start learning how to understand the girl’s human sounds. You start figuring out what _tackle_ and _tail whip_ and _quick attack_ are, but you mostly figure it out by memory. The sounds the girl makes reminds you of those moves.

You learn in a similar way, once and for all, that _kyou_ is the name of the Squirtle and that _mika_ is yours. Those two sounds are harder for you to learn. But you figure them out, through your sense of self and scent, through the way Kyou responds to his name, through the way that girl expects you to respond to _mika_.

It’s new and strange to you, the idea of names, the idea of sound as identifying scents. But you’re starting to figure it out.

“Team building exercise~!” the girl sings suddenly. You and Kyou look up at her and follow her gaze to a pair of creatures in the distance. Round, furry, cream in color, long, thin tails. You don’t know what they are. Your muscles tense at the sight of them. “They’re probably weak enough for you two to take them on,” she says, but she pulls out one of those balls—your Poké Ball. She looks down at you and Kyou. “You guys wanna battle them together?”

You’re not sure what she means, but you’ve heard her say the word _battle_ enough times that you associate it with a rush of movement and adrenaline. Whatever else she said makes you think of Kyou. You look back at the Squirtle, who’s looking at you with round eyes.

“Kyou, Mika,” she says, and you both look up at her. She nods toward the creatures with a smile on her face. “Go ahead.”

You hear Kyou approach them and watch him for a moment before following suit.

“Kyou, see if they’ll attack after a Bubble!”

Kyou fires those Bubbles from his mouth, the ones that hit you in the face earlier and struck the wings of some wild Pidgey. One of the creatures sees the attack coming and screeches and jumps out of the way, but the other gets hit in the face. She hisses and stumbles back and scratches at her eyes, but once she gathers herself enough to stand straight and glare Kyou down, she moves.

You take a step back, listening to instinct, to your pounding heart, to that thought telling you to run away, but there’s another thought saying you need to stay here. You don’t stay with your paws planted on the ground because you choose to. You stay because you can’t decide what to do.

The one with wet fur leaps over faster than you’ve seen anything else move. Faster than a Rattata can flee an unwelcome enemy, faster than the Pidgey that flew away from Kyou. You pin your ears and whiskers back and sweep your tail behind you, but your legs are still frozen by those conflicting thoughts.

And then there’s the other creature, the one that you hear screech after his ally goes running for Kyou. He only moves into action once the other is just a few feet in front of Kyou, but you don’t have time to react before the girl suddenly calls, “Mika, use Quick Attack on the same Mankey! Cover Kyou!”

You stay frozen for a second. The thought that you should move gets stronger, but you don’t know why. You don’t know where to move. You don’t know what the girl is saying aside from _quick attack_. But you immediately think of the sopping creature, the one going straight for Kyou who’s ready to veer and take a hit with his shell and—

You don’t think about it much more than that. You run. Fast. Just how you learned with the girl helping you. You barrel into the creature, just barely clipping her arm, throwing her off balance enough that she stumbles to the side and misses Kyou entirely.

You hear the other one screech.

“Kyou, get the same Mankey with a Tackle! Mika, Quick Attack the other one before it gets too close to Kyou!”

You think of the other creature and immediately turn to him. He runs toward you the same way the other one ran toward Kyou. Kyou, who you don’t worry about right now because somehow you know he can take care himself. So you push off with your hind legs, darting forward, slamming your shoulder into his stomach and sending him sprawling on his back.

The other one scrambles into your view, frantic feet and hands clawing up the dirt road and running up to the one you took care of, the one still getting to his feet.

You and Kyou have scared them. It’s easy to see. They won’t face you now.

So you pin back your ears and whiskers and bristle your fur. You bare your teeth and hiss at them, and they don’t look back. They run into the bushes with breathless grunts, and you feel satisfied.

You hear the girl grunt proudly behind you. When you face her, she smiles at you and then Kyou, but there’s a wrinkle in her brow. “Not bad for a first battle together, guys! You two are surprisingly good at this.”

You don’t know what she means, but you think of skepticism.

Kyou warbles happily, and you turn to look at him. That thought of allies comes back to you and you approach him with a quiet squeak. He tilts his head at you and makes a noise in the back of his throat, one that you at least recognize as nonthreatening. So you sniff him carefully, and you memorize that sour scent that makes you think of the river near your home.

You only take one step back once you think you’ve memorized his scent. You sit just a step away from him.

Your ear twitches at the sound of the girl approaching you. “Cuties,” she coos, crouching down to pat you and Kyou on the head.

You flinch at her sudden touch, but you don’t mind it. She still smells sweet like pecha trees, still smells of sweat and metal. She smells like an ally too.


	10. Chapter 10

You live in the forest. You have always lived in the forest, first crawling across its floor on your belly, then rooted to its branches by silk, and now free to fly under its canopy whenever you please. To you, the forest is home.

You don’t know what humans call this place (though you doubt they think of it as home too). You don’t know why exactly they come through here. Based on their actions, you assume they only enter the forest to take other creatures with those spheres they all seem to have. They’re usually red and white. Sometimes you come across humans with blue ones.

You assume that this girl, the one with the blue and purple creatures beside her, is here for the same reason. Usually the sight of humans with Pokémon at their side sends you flitting into the trees, but there’s something strange about this girl.

So you follow her, flapping your wings as quietly as you can, hoping the purple one doesn’t hear you. You see her ears twitch from time to time, and though she sometimes stops to gaze around, she always turns back to the girl and follows closely behind.

You don’t figure out what’s strange about her until another human, a child, tries to battle her with one of your kin.

The girl looks at the purple one beside her and says, “Mika, why don’t you get this one?” You can feel the thought of battle that accompanies those words, but you don’t pay mind to it; it’s easy to see that this encounter between humans will be yet another battle.

It’s after the boy yells, “Tackle!” and the girl says, “Jump over it to dodge! It can’t jump that high!” that you feel puzzled.

You don’t know what she said. You don’t know what any humans say. The sounds they make are all similar (even familiar by now, given how many humans you’ve seen in your brief lifetime), but they’re always meaningless. You make nothing of them.

So while you don’t know what her sounds mean, you know the thought that accompanies them. It’s a thought of motion and success, one that the purple creature she commands mimics almost perfectly. You watch the purple one wait until her opponent is inches before her, watch her sprint forward and leap into the air with her hind legs, and watch her land behind her foe, completely unharmed.

You recognize the girl’s thought of success, stronger this time. You don’t know what the boy is thinking.


	11. Chapter 11

You’re careless. You’re not sure what did it. Maybe you flew too loudly or chirped without noticing. Whatever it was, the purple creature notices you.

For a moment, she stares at you. While the girl and the blue one walk on ahead, the purple one stares at you, nose twitching, eyes darting from one compound eye to the other.

“Mika?”

Her ears twitch, and she straightens, and she turns to the girl. But she doesn’t leave her post.

“Is something wrong?”

Curiosity. A little bit of worry. You wonder if the girl would take you in one of those spheres. She might. You’ve seen more of your kind taken than any other Pokémon.

You think for too long about whether or not you’d be okay with that.

Excitement. The thought of battle and one of those spheres, the red and white kind. You stretch your wings.

“Kyou! The Butterfree!”

Water. The thought is there as the blue one fires his attack, before the girl can say, “Bubble!”

You take off, but the bubbles arrive more quickly than you expect them to. They sting when they pop against your wings and your flight falters, but you level yourself quickly and put some distance between yourself and them.

You hear the girl say something, something that sounds muffled as air rushes past you. It’s the thought that reaches you instead, but the purple creature is much faster than you’re prepared for.

Her little body rams itself full-force into your back, and though you spread your wings to try to keep the air beneath you, you still fall.

You just barely miss a low branch when you feel something blunt strike your back. What follows are bright red, hopefulness, and sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

When the world comes back to you in a flash of white light, you are still in the forest.

For a moment, you think the girl may have let you go, that maybe she decided against taking you away. But that purple creature approaches you with a cautious but curious nose, and you know otherwise.

“Be sure not to scare him away, Mika,” the girl laughs. She’s happy. Excited. A little nervous. And all those thoughts are about you. You don’t quite understand why. You want to know, so you wait for her thoughts to catch up.

The girl crouches, crosses her arms over her knees, and smiles at you with a wrinkle in her brow. “So, uh. Welcome to the team.”

She thinks of you, of the blue creature standing next to her and looking at you with wide eyes, and of the purple creature now on your right with her head tilted. There’s a thought of loyalty, of strength in numbers, of alliances. It’s a thought you can picture simply because of _her_ thoughts, but it’s not one you fully understand.

“Not sure if you’d understand but, uh, I’m Naomi,” she says, gesturing weakly to herself with a hand. She gestures to the blue creature and says, “This is Kyou,” and then gestures to the purple one next to you. “And that’s Mika.”

You don’t understand anything that she says. You only followed her gestures and her respective thoughts of herself and the two creatures.

Her thoughts shift to you. “And you…”

You wait patiently. The purple one circles her way behind you and comes up to sniff your left wing. You flinch and hop away, closer to the girl.

“Hm, what about Ren?”

She expects you to respond in some way. You don’t know what she wants you to respond to, but you sense no threat in doing so. So you chirp at her, and she smiles. “Alright! Ren it is.”

The purple squeaks at you like she understands what the girl said. You chirp in confusion.


	13. Chapter 13

The girl starts to think that something is wrong when you try to battle one of those poisonous larvae for her.

There’s worry and puzzlement in her head when she asks you, “You can’t use Confusion yet?”

You know what she means even though you don’t know what she says. It’s an ability you’ve seen others of your kind perform and master, the best of which always avoided being taken away from the forest. You’ve experienced firsthand what it can do. The way it can completely disorient you. It would make you see and hear things that weren’t there, make your surroundings distant and intangible. Sometimes you would feel like there was something inside your head and that the only way to get rid of it was to attack it.

You would awaken from moments like that with self-inflicted wounds and bruises on your body.

You feel her thought of concern, maybe of frustration as well. You know that she’s wondering how she’s supposed to deal with the poisonous larvae now, since you can’t easily dispose of them. She thinks of the other Pokémon with her, the blue one and the purple one, and wonders how well they would do at avoiding poison.

She hums briefly. The blue one flashes through your thoughts.

“Kyou, use Bubble! See if you can at least scare it off!”

You watch the blue one run forward, as steadily as he can on his stubby legs. He fires twice, making the larva stumble and scurry back into the bushes. 

The girl’s thoughts then turn to you. You notice her looking at you, so you face her.

“So, no Confusion, huh?” She wears a smile, but you know it’s not a happy one. You watch her attentively. She puffs out a stream of air, blowing a few strands of dark hair out of her face. “Well, I guess we can work around that. We’ll just avoid the Weedle line as much as we can.” She tilts her head and looks up and to the side, like she’s trying to remember something. You mimic her head tilt. “And I guess not all Butterfree get Confusion as soon as they evolve…” She tilts her head to the other side. You follow. “Most do but, well…”

She straightens and smiles at you. A happier smile, now. You follow her thoughts of battle.

“But I guess we’ll just have to train you until you do.”


	14. Chapter 14

You only really start paying attention to Mika and the newcomer— _ren_ , you remember—when Naomi decides you should all stop for lunch.

She pulls a blanket out of her brown bag to drape over the grass and plops herself on top. The next things she pulls out are small containers with trail mix and dried fruit in them, and that’s more than enough to prompt you to start looking for greens.

The bushes nearby have odd leaves on them, round ones that don’t resemble the leaves of the bushes on Route 1 or the leaves of the bushes near the river where the old man would take you. You look up to the canopy despite knowing that those leaves must be far out of your reach. And they are. So you rip up a few blades of grass and try those. They taste fine enough. You plop down and eat.

You watch the others as you snack, sitting several feet away from them. Naomi leaves some dried fruits on the blanket for Mika to eat, but Ren is nowhere to be found. Of course, that doesn’t concern you. Ren is just a new tagalong.

But your thoughts of him blur together with a vague concept that occasionally invades your thoughts: the concept of allies, friends, teammates. These are things you don’t understand, things you don’t have a feeling for, things that you couldn’t even assign a sound to.

Ren eventually returns with flowers in his stubby hands and drops them on the blanket beside Naomi, situating himself there before starting to chew on the petals. You watch Naomi offer him some of the fruit she offered Mika. You suddenly realize how far away you are from them.

Ren chirps at Naomi and goes back to his flowers. You chew on the grass in your mouth. You would have accepted the fruit.

Then Naomi turns to you and calls, “Kyou!” She holds the rejected fruit toward you. “You want some?”

You blink.

“Even if you don’t, you should come sit here with us anyway.” She smiles.

You swallow the blades of grass in your mouth, rip up a few more, and go over to them. That vague concept from earlier enters your mind again, and while it feels like Mika and Naomi and Ren are supposed to accompany it, they don’t quite fit.

Still, when you take the dried fruit and sit with them, careful to keep your tail away from Mika, it feels nicer than sitting by yourself on the grass.


	15. Chapter 15

The white light flashes around you. You catch Naomi putting that red-and-white sphere away once the greenery has taken shape around you. Whether the light is red or white, that ball is usually there, and you’re beginning to think it’s related to your sudden sleeps and wakings.

Your shallow theory holds at the moment; though you don’t always see the ball, it’s almost always there in the moment just before unconsciousness, sitting in Naomi’s hand. She has three of them now, and you can guess accurately enough that the other two are for Mika and Ren.

You watch Naomi put the spheres away, and you think. You think of (what feels like) just a few moments ago, when you were inside Pewter City’s Pokémon Center and the red light appeared as Naomi said, “I’ll let you out when I’m on Route 2 again.” You think of yesterday evening, when you had all left the forest and walked until Pewter City was in sight. You felt underwhelmed by it, but you didn’t know why .

You think of last night, when sleep came to you in the dark in a tub with just enough water in it to remind you of the river. You think that maybe there were times when the old man had arranged a sleeping area like that, like Naomi did. You think about how sleep would come to you in those times without a red light.

But Naomi doesn’t think the spheres are a bad thing. Neither does Mika, who seems to think a lot things are bad things—you (at first), that white rectangle Naomi sometimes holds in her hand, and the things that hide in the bushes. Ren doesn’t seem bothered by the spheres either, though he’s new and strange and still just a tagalong.

Still, you watch Naomi’s bag carefully. Those red lights might appear suddenly and put you all to sleep again. But you easily forget your worry about them with the distraction of battles that Naomi gives the three of you.

“I don’t think you guys are ready to spar with each other,” she says. You think of when you fought Mika before she was _mika_ , and you think of Mika chasing Ren through the trees before he was _ren_. That vague thought of alliances comes back. Your memories of those two instances somehow feel wrong in that context. “So, Kyou.”

You look up at her instinctively. The expression on her face feels determined.

“We’re getting some target practice in against the Pidgey. Gotta learn how to predict movements. Plus we need to get you Water Gun. And Ren,” she says, eyes looking away from you, “we need to get you Confusion. Mika, I’m not planning on using you against Brock, but every bit of training helps.” She smiles.

Though she works with all of you, you get most of Naomi’s attention. She helps you improve your aim, tells you to use Bubble on Pidgey that fly higher than the ones you’ve come across before, or ones that fly faster. Sometimes Naomi tosses up twigs or rocks for you to aim at when the Pidgey become scarce or too difficult to hit.

You don’t pay much attention to how she helps Ren and Mika. Mostly you just overhear things like, “Mika, you can catch it with Quick Attack!” or, “You know, you kind of remind me of my sister’s Pokémon, Ren.” Beyond that, whatever she does with the other Pokémon doesn’t interest you. The only time you really turn your head is when happiness suddenly fills your thoughts and Naomi shouts, “You got Confusion!” Even then, you only blink at her and a happily flitting Ren before going back to firing water at Pidgey.

At some point, your Bubbles turn into a stream of water, and Naomi gives you the same attention. She grins at you and hugs you and at some point starts singing, “We’re gonna get a gym badge, we’re gonna get a gym badge~” and there’s an unfamiliar sense of pride that fills you.

So in a strange way, you feel betrayed when the end of your training session comes and what awaits you after Naomi’s smile is that red light.


	16. Chapter 16

“Okay,” says the man at the desk. The desk is too tall for you to see him, so you spend your time looking around the lobby while Naomi talks to him. “Naomi Tanaka, eighteen, no badges?”

“That’s right!” Naomi says. You look up at her at the sound of her voice. She’s smiling. You feel confident, though you’re not entirely sure what’s about to happen.

The interior of this building makes you think of the Pokémon Center. There are several other trainers waiting in the lobby, most of them with small blue or leafy creatures. One of them has a spiky, yellow and brown one. You don’t know why other people wait in Pokémon Centers with these creatures, but you guess that they’re here for a similar reason.

“Alright,” the man says. You don’t attempt to look up at him. “You’re checked in, so just wait over there and we’ll call you when Brock is ready.”

You hear something slide against the desk. “Thank you!” Naomi says cheerily. “Come on, Kyou.”

You look up at her now, but she’s already walking toward the other people. You follow close behind.

Naomi sits one chair over from the boy with the spiky creature. You watch the two of them closely from your spot on the floor. You’ve never seen a creature like that before.

You flinch when Naomi pets your head. For some reason, you think that something here is supposed to be a little funny, but you don’t feel like laughing. Besides, the amusement quickly gives way to concern.

“Well, you’re definitely not here for your first badge,” Naomi says to the boy with the spiky creature.

The boy looks up from his shoes, and the creature follows his gaze. You look up at Naomi as well. “Oh, uh. No,” he says, “I’m going for my second badge.” 

“Nervous?” Naomi asks him. She’s smiling. It’s not the kind of smile you’ve seen on her face before. It doesn’t look happy or worried. It looks… gentle.

“A little,” the boy says cautiously.

Naomi waves her hand, in a gesture you vaguely recognize but don’t understand. “Oh, don’t be!” She looks down, and you follow her gaze to the spiky creature. “You should be fine with your Sandslash there. He looks well-trained.”

The creature snorts at _sandslash_. That must be his name.

“Thanks,” the boy says. “He took down Surge back home pretty easily. But, you know. Electric immunity.”

You tilt your head at the Sandslash. He glances at you. Snorts. Tilts his head.

“I don’t think you’ll have a problem with Brock either. Sandslash are fairly defensive, so play to that strength of his. You could easily turn a Defense Curl into some offensive attack.”

You tilt your head the other way and warble at the Sandslash. He tilts his head the other way too.

“Iron Tail could probably work with that…”

You warble again. But he snorts and turns his attention to his claws.

“Perfect, there you go!” Naomi says, enthusiastically enough that you look up at her again. It’s not like the Sandslash would care anymore. “Oh, and don’t forget that Sandshrew and Sandslash can be surprisingly good climbers. Might be useful against his Onix.”

“Huh… Thanks,” the boy says.

Naomi is still smiling, less gently and more happily now. Somehow you feel proud. 

“Are you here for your first badge?” the boy asks.

“Yeah,” she answers. That amused thought comes back. Her smile kind of matches it. “But don’t worry, you’re not taking advice from a novice.”

“So—”

“Kyler Mercier!” calls the man from the desk.

You hear movement behind you, and you turn to see the boy standing up. “That’s us,” he mutters.

You warble in some form of curiosity and reassurance. You see that the Sandslash isn’t looking at his claws anymore. He’s looking at the boy. “You’ll do fine,” Naomi says. “Gym Leaders kinda take it easy for your first four badges.”

“Well, I hope all your know-how is right.”

You watch as the boy and his Sandslash go up to the desk and disappear behind it. You can’t begin to guess what awaits them (or yourself) back there.

Suddenly there are hands at your sides and the floor disappears beneath your feet, and when you look behind you, you see that Naomi is lifting you onto her lap. “He seems a little stressed,” she tells you. “But I have to say, kids trying to be trainers _and_ go through school at the same time are pretty admirable.” She hugs you a little tightly. Something makes you frown. “Must be something they really want to do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyler there is a cameo from Gangster Garchomp's [Contagious](http://s7.zetaboards.com/Nuzlocke_Forum/topic/9247092/1/) over on the Nuzlocke Forums. I needed someone with a Pokemon that was good against Brock but not available too close to Pewter. I thought of a Sandslash and, well, then I thought of Kyler. So, I figured, why not give him a cameo?


	17. Chapter 17

Kyler and his Sandslash step back into your view fifteen minutes later, beaming. You catch the boy holding up a small, gray thing toward Naomi before speaking to the man at the desk. They leave a minute later, but not before Kyler calls out, “Thanks for the advice!” and Naomi returns, “No problem!”

You stare after the boy wondering if he and his Sandslash will come back. They don’t.

Fifteen minutes pass before the man at the desk calls, “Naomi Tanaka!”

Naomi carefully places you on the floor, gets up, and walks to the desk. You follow closely behind, overhear the few words she has with the man, and then follow her past the desk through a set of double doors.

Another man stands a few feet beyond the doors, one taller than any human you’ve seen. Behind him is an expanse of earth and rock with a marked field and near-empty bleachers on either side. You approach it with a sense of wonder and confusion. Even a bit of excitement that you can’t quite place.

“Naomi!” the man shouts when you both get closer. His smile is wide, so wide that even from your angle, you can see a perfect row of white teeth. He stands tall with his arms crossed, but he doesn’t look intimidating. Something about him actually seems friendly to you.

You barely hear Naomi’s laugh. “Hi, Brock.”

You think of how she greeted Kenneth three days ago. Like they’ve known each other for a while.

“Finally taking up the mantle, huh?” he asks. 

“Guess so.”

You squint at the man. You think of hesitation, uncertainty. Nervousness. That excitement from earlier isn’t entirely gone, though.

He shrugs, smile never leaving his face. “Ah, you’ll do fine, kid.” He turns his attention to you briefly. You tilt your head. You’re not sure what to make of him, but Naomi seems to like him. “So I see you went with a starter.”

“Yeah. Bree wanted to give me an Abra but… I dunno, it kinda felt like cheating.”

It’s stronger now. The nervousness.

“No, that’s fair, that’s fair. Granted, you’ve got one hell of an advantage against me now.” He looks at Naomi and grins widely again. It makes you feel a little less nervous.

“Now,” he says, turning toward the open space and starting to walk across it. Naomi follows him, and you follow her. “I take it I don’t have to repeat any of the usual pre-battle spiel?”

“No, sir!” 


	18. Chapter 18

You carefully take your place on the battlefield, feet unused to the rocky ground. That white light immediately greets you. For a moment, you wonder if the creature that appears before you, the large floating rock with arms and a face, is waking from a dreamless sleep too.

“Let’s get right to it, then!” the man shouts from across the field. “Louis, Tackle!”

The rock— _louis_ , you guess—moves faster than you expect it to. But it’s slower than the Pidgey and Rattata you’ve practiced against. You square your stance, ready to fire a Water Gun like Naomi always asks, but you’re hesitant. You think that something’s off. That maybe this seems too easy.

Still, Naomi shouts, “Go for the Water Gun!” and you comply.

You fire the attack quickly and accurately, and you know from your limited experience that it will hit its mark. But—

“Put up the Rock Tomb!”

Louis slams his fists into the ground. Rock rises up in front of him, forming a barrier between him and your attack.

You barely hear Naomi mutter, “Knew it.”

“Now go into the Rock Throw!”

One by one, rocks fly from behind the wall, hurtling through the air toward you.

You don’t think about it. You just start running.

You scramble in whatever direction you think _won’t_ get you pelted by rocks. The first ones miss you purely by luck. You don’t feel relieved. The panic keeps you moving—but behind that, there’s frustration.

“Kyou, calm down!” Naomi shouts. You don’t know what she says, but you can feel what she means. Something about stopping. “Use Withdraw!”

You don’t know if you should listen. Your feet keep moving. You nearly trip trying to decide whether or not you should keep moving, whether or not you should do as Naomi said, whether or not you should risk pulling into your shell and lying on the ground where the rocks will likely hit you.

You don’t know what does it. Maybe it’s some fear you have of her that you aren’t aware of. Or maybe it’s just some faint, pressing feeling on your mind. But you listen.

You tuck your legs and your head inside your shell, and you feel everything shake around you as you settle on the ground again. You hear the rocks thud against your shell. You flinch every time they hit and send shock waves rippling through your body.

But they don’t hurt as much as you thought they would. And eventually they stop. 

“Kyou, you’ve gotta move quick! Use Water Gun and start closing in!”

You hesitate. You know you shouldn’t and you know that you need to listen, but you still hesitate. The idea of those rocks flying at you keeps you locked in your shell for a moment before you ease your way out, eyes peeled for projectiles.

You don’t see any airborne rocks. Just the craggy battlefield, Louis’ fortress in the distance, the man behind him, and even the lone boy sitting in the stands watching studiously.

When it feels safe (despite the frustration poking at your thoughts), you come out of your shell, get on your feet, and get to doing what Naomi asked.

You run toward the wall of earth, and you fire your attack as soon as your nerves settle enough. You aim for the side of the wall, hoping Louis will peek around it. He doesn’t, so you keep moving in, not noticing the way your attack weakens the wall.

“Back on the offensive, Louis!”

“Just keep moving, Kyou!”

Naomi’s order wouldn’t have really mattered. You’re too focused on getting a hit on Louis, too frustrated about that foreign frustration that you barrel ahead anyway, avoiding the Rock Throw through sheer luck, moving as quickly as your legs can carry you, still firing until—

You see the wall shift and hear Louis grunt, and half the wall goes down. That’s what gets you to stop. You drop the attack and stay still, carefully watching the half-wall and a now-visible Louis floating behind it.

He shivers and shakes off whatever water he can. You see the Everstone tied around his arm glint with water.

“Ah, not bad,” you hear the man say. “That’s enough, Louis, come back.”

Louis looks obediently toward the man. That red light suddenly engulfs his body, and he disappears from your view. You wonder about rest and, more than that, about dreams.

You frown.

“Alright, Naomi, let’s see how you handle my Onix!”

The light blinds you. You squint and shield your eyes and even shuffle back a few steps, trying to recall the last time a battle produced this much white light. It never has. When you open your eyes and see nothing but boulders in front of you, boulders that climb, and climb, and climb, until your head is tilted as far up as it can be, you see why.

The creature is massive. Taller than anything you’ve ever seen before.

You freeze.

“Kyou, get a Water Gun in, quick!” Naomi says.

But you don’t hear her.

There’s a pause that you don’t really notice, and a concerned, “Kyou!” that you don’t really hear.

Then there’s a quiet, “Sam, Rock Tomb,” that you don’t register until you hear the thing’s voice.

The sound he makes is low, but you feel it in the earth. You feel it in your legs. It’s enough to make you consider pulling into your shell without Naomi’s command, but you only do it instinctively when the beast slams his tail against the ground.

You jump up when it does—because the earth moved that much or because you flinched that hard, you don’t know—and you pull into your shell without a second thought. You hear the boulders come up around you, feel them slide and scrape against your shell, and you wince and shiver and wonder what happened.

What happened to the Pidgey that would run away, and the Caterpie that rarely got in more than a few Tackles. What happened to battling them?

You think back to that frustration, to that red light after you learned Water Gun, to Naomi’s smiles.

You wonder if you did something to make her mad.

“Kyou!” she yells, and you hear it this time. There’s still some frustration poking at your thoughts, but there’s more concern than anything. “Kyou, come on, just one Water Gun! Y-you can do it!”

You stay in your shell.

There’s a muffled voice, and everything shakes again. You feel those boulders close in on you, feel your shell creak, feel your heart in your throat. The ground disappears beneath you, your sense of balance shifts, your blood rushes to your head, and you don’t really think about it.

You spit out as much water as you can, right from inside your shell, and you fall, fall, until you collide with the ground and feel it shake every muscle in your body, but you don’t pay it much mind. You pull all your limbs out of your shell and spit water at whatever’s in front of you and run. It’s really only because that monster is so big that you hit him, that he grumbles low in response, and you feel it your body but you don’t really hear it.

You do hear Naomi’s, “Kyou!” It’s not a cheer, but you hear the excitement in her call anyway, and it’s enough to get you to flinch and stop everything again. Stop running, stop firing. You’d turn to face her if you weren’t afraid the monster in front of you would attack while you weren’t looking. “Aim for his face!” she shouts.

_Aim_. You think of the Pidgey. What happened to those?

You square yourself anyway, tail trembling, and aim. Straight for the monster’s face. He tries to move his upper body out of the way, but he’s too big, too sluggish. He moves his eye right into your line of fire.

All you really hear is the roar. You flinch and stumble, but you don’t let up. You keep firing, firing, wondering whatever happened to the smaller creatures and the safer fights, wondering why you’re not allowed to dream anymore.

You wonder if you summoned the light with your thoughts, because the red comes back and takes the monster away with it.

“Not bad, Naomi!” the man calls.

You hear Naomi let out a breath. And though you think that you should feel relieved, maybe even happy and excited, you’re tense. You’re waiting for the next flash of white light.


	19. Chapter 19

“That… that’s it, then?” Naomi asks.

You continue to wait, eyes squinting in preparation for that light.

“That’s it,” the man says. It’s only when he steps onto the field that you start to lower your guard.

Nervousness pricks at you. “Like… a good kind of ‘that’s it?’”

“A good kind.”

And then happiness. But you don’t smile. “Kyou! Kyou, you did it!”

You carefully take your eyes off the approaching man to watch Naomi come toward you. She’s smiling. You wonder if that means something.

Neither of them say anything more until they meet at you, when Naomi picks you up and hugs you and says, “You were so great!” That’s when you feel like you can relax. That’s when you finally feel tired, when you finally feel your heartbeat in your ears. You rest your head against her shoulder and shut your eyes halfway. You’d close them completely, but your nerves won’t let you; what if that light appears again?

“You still have a lot to learn, of course,” the man says. “Kyou’s got a lot of promise,” and you glance at him, not knowing at all what he’s saying, “but he’s pretty skittish.”

Naomi pats your head. “Yeah… It’s kind of hard to prepare him for something as big as an Onix. Um.” She sighs. Her breath curls over your shell and neck, warm and, in a strange way, defeated. You frown. She hunches her shoulder beneath your cheek. “Though, I… didn’t really train him defensively anyway… Kinda didn’t think about that.”

“You’ve battled before, though, right? Before you got Kyou?”

“Yeah, but those were with Pokémon that Bree had already trained so—” She pauses here and adjusts her hold on you, pushing you further up her shoulder and startling you. You realize now that your eyes were almost fully shut. You keep them wide open now, eyes now trained on the boy in the stands. He looks like he’s writing something. There’s a yellow creature next to him, one that looks like the Sandslash from earlier but smaller and smoother. “They knew how to dodge and how to react to incoming attacks. And big Pokémon weren’t new to them. Somehow I kinda forgot…” She shrugs. “Yeah.”

You hear the man grunt softly, and something coils in your chest. Something unconfident and scared. But you’re too tired to pay it much mind. You cast it aside like it’s not your worry, like it’s nothing for you to care about. “I’m glad you could admit what you did wrong, though,” the man says. “That’s good.” You hear something shuffle, and though you’re still only looking at that scribbling boy, you feel something try to lift your spirits. Like something is telling you you’re supposed to smile. “Here you go, kid. You deserve it.”

You turn and glance up and catch Naomi’s big smile. You give in to that thought. You don’t smile as much as she does, but it’s a smile nonetheless, even if it does feel contrived. “Thank you,” she says to him. She sounds awed. You don’t know why until she holds a small piece of metal up to you. “Look, Kyou!” she says as you study the little thing in confusion. Roundish, gray, and multi-faceted. “We got our first badge!” You smile, but you have no idea what the big deal is.

“Just be sure to talk to Edwin at the desk to get the badge registered and all.”

The piece of metal falls out of your view, and you start to forget that you need to keep your eyes open. “Yeah! Thanks.”

The man laughs softly. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Tell your sister I said hi and good luck in Unova.”

Something catches in your throat, but it disappears just as suddenly. Your rest your head against Naomi’s neck. It’s darker there, with your face pressed against her skin. You could sleep easily. “Will do,” you hear her say, and you’re moving. Naomi hugs you as she walks, and you don’t pay attention to much after that. You don’t catch any of the words she shares with the man at the desk. You just let your eyes close and hope you can dream.


	20. Chapter 20 — She

Naomi lies on her bed in the Pokémon Center, eyes focused on the phone just a few inches from her face. Knees raised, one leg crossed over the other. She hasn't changed her clothes since coming back from her gym battle. Still the same green button down and dark jeans and pink polka dot socks. Her sneakers, bright red save for black details and the dirt creeping up the soles, sit by the door.

Her Pokémon aren't in the room. Instead, three Poké Balls sit on the nightstand. The clock beside them reads 3:04 PM.

The look she gives her phone is a mix of amusement and disappointment.

_So did you rock his shit or what?_

It's a text from Kenneth. She shakes her head, but she grins all the same.

The messages scroll up as a new text comes in: _B)_

She sighs, still smiling. Still shaking her head.

 _I'm just not gonna talk to you_ , she sends.

_Oh, come on, it took me forever to think of an awful pun. Cut me some slack. Let me have this. >:(_

She pulls up the emoji menu, scrolls through it. Frowns. "Why is there nothing rolling its eyes but in a not-mean way," she mutters. She goes back to the keyboard and sends, _smh. That wasn’t even a hard pun to come up with._

_No appreciation for my crappy humor, tsk tsk..._

She rolls her eyes in place of the missing emoji. She's still smiling.

He sends: _Just for that, I am going to deliberately come up with awful puns each time you get a badge. I'm sure I can find plenty of terrible water puns. >:)_

And now she stops smiling.

Her brow furrows. Her lips press into a thin line. Her thumbs hover over the keyboard and twitch.

She stares. For five seconds. Ten. A solid minute. And then, as if her phone were tired of being stared at, it buzzes.

She jumps when Kenneth's texts give way to a picture of a goofy-looking woman and Medicham and the word "Mom" in huge letters.

Naomi blinks at it, sighs, and answers. She smiles instantly, but no joy makes it to her eyes. "Hi, Mom!"

“Naomi! How did your battle go?! You won, right? Oooh, you have to send me a picture of your new badge!”

She stubbornly focuses on a clump in the crown molding on the opposite wall. “I won, yeah!” Her voice sounds tight. She blinks suddenly. Coughs. She smiles more naturally, eyes distant but still looking at the clump. “I’ll send you a picture later, don’t worry.”

“Ah, I knew it! You see, Haru?! I told you she’d get it!”

Naomi sighs through her nose. She bounces the foot crossed over her other leg. Her eyes still don’t look away from the clump.

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line, one that much be quietly occupied by her father, and then Ami sighs. “It’s not just about—”

The silence and the pause again. Naomi bites her lip. Her eyes look down, through some vague spot on the wall. “Congrats, Naomi,” her father suddenly says into the phone.

“Thanks, Dad!”

“Did you tell Sabrina yet?” Ami asks.

She frowns, toes clenching. “Nah, not yet,” she says, hesitating just slightly on the first word, that _n_ stretching for milliseconds too long. Ami doesn’t notice. “I _just_ got back from the battle.”

“Well be sure to let her know!”

“I know.”

“She should still be at the gym.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh, I still remember when she first started her journey—”

Her phone buzzes. She jumps at the noise, at the vibration, body going tense, vague spot on the wall forgotten. Her eyes focus on a lower, closer point, as if there’s some threat in the air just before her.

It’s just a text message.

But Ami continues, “She was actually so nervous. I mean, she put on a brave face and all, but I could tell.” There’s pride in her voice.

And Naomi deflates. Somehow, she sinks further into the bed, and her lips sink further into a frown. She stares up at the ceiling and lets her raised foot fall to the bed, fully extended. Her other knee looks like a mountain beside it. “Yeah…” She breaths out a laugh, breathes some life into her eyes, smiles a bit. “She’d never admit that.”

“Mmhmm! And I’m sure she’ll act like becoming gym leader was always the plan, but you know that’s not how it was.”

“Yeah…”

"But you’re prepared! I bet you're all excited about these battles and then taking over?"

Her eyes widen, just a bit. Like they see an opportunity in the ceiling. But then, “Y-yeah, of course!” The corners of her lips turn up just enough that maybe she could sound like she means the words coming out of her mouth. “Just kinda nervous about it and all. I mean, I’m not really—” She hunches her shoulder, getting through only half a shrug. She stretches out her other leg finally. Her free hand fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “It’s new. Staying and running a gym and all…”

“I know, but you’ll be fine, Naomi.”

Brows furrowed, she smiles. She looks pitiful.

There’s a pause. A short one that lasts just long enough to signal the coming end of a conversation. Naomi looks down at her toes, solid pink curved around them. She clenches her toes, stretches them, lets them relax. Her hand stops fidgeting, but it grips the hem of her shirt all the same.

“Well,” Ami starts, with a hint of sadness or longing in her voice, “be sure to keep in touch, okay? You’re going to Cerulean now, right?”

“Yeah. ‘m gonna meet up with Kenneth there,” she says. Though it sounds more like the words are just falling out her mouth. Her eyes look tired.

“Oh, good! And you’re taking a bus there, _right_?” It’s more a statement than a question, the way she says it.

Naomi sighs through her nose. “Yes,” she answers, stretching out the word compliantly. “You know, I only walked through Viridian Forest because I wanted a Butterfree.”

“I know, I know. The adventure of a Pokémon journey and all…” she sighs. “Just, stay safe. Okay?”

“I will.”

“Let me know when you leave.”

“I will, Mom.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you soon, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She pulls the phone away from her ear and only looks at the screen long enough to hit “End Call.” Then her arm drops to the mattress, phone in hand. She goes back to staring at her feet, moving her big toes every now and then. 

Two minutes pass before her phone buzzes again. Another text. She drags the phone up to her chest and unlocks it.

There are two messages from Kenneth waiting for her.

_Bill is in such denial. I think he and Celio have been in a call for over three hours now, and I know they're not strictly talking about tech stuff._

And:

_You'll make it to the cape in, what, two days, right? You should help me convince Bill to just confess already._

She frowns and sits there and stares at the screen for a full minute before her fingers move.

_Do you yhink i_

She deletes it.

_I'm not sure i_

Deletes it.

 _This all makes me so nervous and anxious..._ Pauses. _I'm not really sure I wanna go to cerulean or any of the other gym leaders. Misty kinda hates me anyway for idk what reason. I know I should probably say something about this gym thing to bree or even my parents bu_

Her finger gets stuck on the t, long enough that her phone gives her the option to type in t, ϸ, ť, or ţ. She sighs through her nose, looks her message over, selects it all, and deletes it. She slowly types out an affirmative. But her finger hovers over the send button, and she goes back. She adds an exclamation mark. She sends it.

_Yep!_


	21. Chapter 21

“Ready, Mika?” the girl asks you. You run forward without a second thought, taking your place across the way from the violet snake, but your fur bristles with nervousness.

You’ve never seen one of these before. There are no snakes on Route 2. Only the larger birds posed any sort of threat to you, and even then they didn’t scare you too much. Not the way that this snake does. His eyes look unnerving and unnatural. Bright yellow, narrow pupils. They almost seem like they glow. The rattling from his tail encourages you to keep a few steps back, and there’s a thought in the back of your head that agrees. You should keep away from it.

“Alright, Remy, Poison Sting!” shouts the trainer behind the snake.

The snake opens his jaw and fires little pins at you, a swarm of purple needles that would require deft movement to avoid completely. It’s the kind of movement that you don’t have, but you’ve witnessed pack members who did. You saw them learn to avoid the Embers and Bubbles of starting trainers’ Pokémon.

“Mika, use Quick Attack to get out of the way!”

You turn sideways and bolt, and as you move, it’s like you can see it. It’s like you can see the battle from the girl’s point of view, like you can see yourself outrunning the attack and avoiding it completely. You’re already digging your feet into the dirt for the turn when she says, “Now strike!”

Your shoulder rams into the snake’s body and sends him sprawling back. He hisses at you and thrashes and tries to coil himself up and pull away from you but he’s too slow.

“Remy, Bite!”

_Bite_. You don’t know this sound, but you see what it means before the snake moves. You don’t have the chance to step back when he bares his fangs.

You don’t think about it. You just do it.

Before he can even lunge for you, you sink your fangs into his tail.

The tail squirms in your mouth and your ears flatten against his sharp hissing. You struggle to keep a hold on him but—

It tastes metallic.

“Mika, let go, that’s it!”

You have to pry your teeth from the snake, and still he hisses at you and lunges forward and bites at the air in front of you. You jump back, but the thought crosses your mind. You could just eat him.

But you hear the other trainer suck his teeth. A red light swallows the wounded snake, and that’s it. You lick your snout clean. It’s not like you were that hungry anyway.

Your ears perk up and your eyes widen. You feel like you could run circles in your excitement. You almost do, but the girl comes up to you and lifts you off the ground. She turns you to face her. She’s smiling widely. “Was that Hyper Fang?” she asks.

“Looks like it,” you hear the boy mutter.

The girl spares him some pitying glance. “Sorry about that!” she tells him, but the smile doesn’t leave her face. If anything, you think it grows even more when she looks at you again. “I think you’ll be fine against projectile attacks. Maybe you won’t get as scared as Kyou did.” She scratches your head. You lean into her touch. “I think I’ll definitely use you against Misty.”

You feel something happy and proud inside of you. Maybe she’ll give you some more dried fruit later, as a treat? You can hope.


	22. Chapter 22

She sets you down and bids words of thanks and farewell to the boy before she leads you further down the route. The land here is closed off, fenced in by walls of rock on either side, a surprisingly grassy gorge that leads to the mountain. The air here tickles your nose, but not enough to make you sneeze. It still smells similar enough to home, unlike the itchy, clean scent of the Pokémon Center rooms you’ve stayed at.

The girl lets you battle against a few other trainers as you make your way toward the mountain. They’re mostly young trainers, taking advantage of the spring weekend. You hardly notice them, though. You hardly even notice the ache at the back of your mind when the girl challenges them or agrees to a battle. But mixed in with that ache is something like admiration.

Those feelings disappear when you come up to a stretch of long grass nestled at the base of the mountain. You perk up with excitement before you even see it.

“Ooh, alright!” the girl says, hands curled up with enthusiasm. “Time to find ourselves a Nidoran. Mika, get in there and scare out whatever you can find. Especially if it’s purple and pointy.”

You twitch your ears and consider her words before running into the grass, understanding _scare out whatever you can find_ as “go battle things.”

So you do, and you sink your teeth into the first thing you find.

Whatever it is, something blurry and dull pink so close to your face, it squeals and thrashes uselessly while you hold its arm in your mouth.

“Did you get one?!”

Then something strikes you in your face.

It shocks you enough to let go of it, and another blow sends you stumbling back. You bristle and hiss though all you can see around you now are tall blades of grass. Your ears pick up rustling coming from beside you, heading away from you. You run after it. But you lose your desire to follow it before you make it out of the grass.

When you step back onto the trodden path where the girl stands, you finally spot the thing you bit. Round, pink, very slow on its feet. You could give chase but…

“Just a Jigglypuff,” the girl mutters. “Well, maybe we can still find one.”

You don’t. The two of you spend two hours searching the grass for a fitting Pokémon, only to come across those pink things and several birds— Nothing purple and pointy.

By the time the girl has given up, she’s walking with slumped shoulders and a slouched posture. You walk behind her nearly dragging your feet, ears drooping and stomach grumbling. The girl doesn’t say anything until the Pokémon Center and the bus stop are in sight, and all she says is, “I should’ve just taken the bus straight from Pewter…”


	23. Chapter 23

The last thing you see before sleep overtakes you is the Pokémon Center counter. The girl and the woman behind the counter exchange a few words, and then there’s redness. When you open your eyes again, you’re outside, in the morning sunlight. Whatever time and travel happened between the Center and here is nothing but a second of blackness with no thoughts, no dreams, and no memories.

“Alright, Mika,” the girl says. You’ve only had a second or two to sniff the air, but you know this is a different place. This is not Pewter City or Viridian City. “We still need to get some training done,” she continues, but you look around instead of paying attention to her meaningless sounds.

It’s brighter here than it was in Pewter. Almost like Viridian. But this place seems more alive. There are more people here, and the air smells of river water. In a way, without the people and the buildings and the concrete beneath your feet, Cerulean City makes you think of home.

“So I was thinking we could head up north and battle some Pokémon there. Maybe we’ll find some trainers around there, too.”

You look up at her when she doesn’t continue. She looks at you expectantly, so you squeak at her as if that’s what she wants. She smiles in return and walks.

You follow closely behind her, sniffing frantically, twisting your ears this way and that to learn as much as you can about this new place. You mostly pick up the meaningless sounds of human chatter, only taking note of their pitch and volume as you walk.

There’s only one set of voices that turns out to be significant. Three male voices: one deep and level, one lively and nasal; and one quiet and raspy. They only grab your attention because the second voice suddenly shouts, “Naomi!” and the girl stops.

For the first time, you wonder what the meaning of that sound is.

“Naomi! Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here! Come, come!”

You follow the direction of the voice and squint at the man speaking. Bald, mustached, eyes hidden behind a pair of round sunglasses. You feel you should be cautious. Hesitant. You approach because the girl does, but you pin your ears back, keep your tail low to the ground, and bare your teeth.

“Hi, Blaine,” the girl says.

You stand behind her leg and look at the men carefully, seated as they are at a table outside a café. There’s the one with sunglasses, the square-faced man with short black hair and a practiced smile, and the other bald one with bushy eyebrows and a kind smile framed by wrinkles. The latter confuses you, but the square-faced man intimidates you. So you hiss at him.

“Mika!” the girl hisses back. She crouches down and picks you up, and though you feel safer in her hold, you still bare your teeth at the man. “S-sorry,” she says. She turns so you can no longer see him, but you keep your ears pinned back. “She’s… still a pretty new catch,” she laughs.

“It’s not a problem,” says the deep voice, the one belonging to that man. “It seems you still have her more or less under control.”

“Yeah,” she says.

“Oh, I should introduce you!” says the nasal voice. “I’m sure you know Giovanni—”

“Yeah,” she says. You bristle your fur. She faces the man just long enough to shake his hand and quickly turns you away. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” he says.

“And this is Dr. Fuji!”

“Mister,” says that raspy voice. “I haven’t done anything in a long time to justify ‘doctor,’” he chuckles.

“Well, you will be now!” 

You calm down a little, enough to relax the muscles in your ears. The girl jostles you as she reaches behind you, but you don’t try to find out why. You paw at her shirt like that will get her to let you keep an eye on that man. “Nice to meet you,” she says.

“Giovanni, Fuji, this is Naomi, Sabrina’s sister and the person in line to take over the Saffron Gym!”

The girl adjusts her hold on you. Your caution gives way to nervousness, and you tense. You pin your ears back again and push against the girl, but she doesn’t budge. She won’t let you see him.

You can hear him though, deep voice booming loud and clear: “Oh, so _you’re_ the sister Sabrina has been mentioning lately.”

“That’s me!” she says. You flinch. Her voice is higher than usual.

“I take it you’re collecting badges now? I believe Sabrina said your mentorship under her was already complete.”

Your heart pounds. Blood rushes to your legs, to your ears, and you don’t know why. But instead of stirring with the need to run and get away from here, you freeze. You stop pushing against her. Instead, you duck your head, pull your tail in, and curl inward. “Yeah,” she says. “Once I get the badges, all we need is approval from the Elite Four…”

“Well, I look forward to battling with you.” You fidget. You paw at her again. Maybe she’ll notice this time and leave. “Maybe Sabrina already told you I’m currently on leave to work on a project with these two.”

But she doesn’t leave. She brushes her thumb against your back, and it feels nice, but it doesn’t quiet the anxiety in your chest. “No, she just told me that you were on leave.”

“Good!” says that nasal voice. It’s sudden and loud and makes you flinch, but it’s a relief to hear over the other man’s voice. “It’s a top secret project.”

“We’re trying to locate a special Pokémon,” says the raspy voice.

“Fuji!”

The raspy voice just laughs. It’s rich and happy and, for a moment, it washes away the anxious energy coiled in your limbs. You lift your head and look at the old man. His eyes are small and dark and kind.

“Does that mean you’re on leave too, Blaine?” the girl asks.

“Oh, no no,” he says. “I have quite the lab back in Cinnabar! I’ll be working a lot from there. Besides, my Charizard doesn’t mind the long flights. Unlike someone’s Gliscor.”

That deep voice sighs. It stirs you again. With defiance now, you straighten and push against the girl to try to see the man, to try to scare him—but she still doesn’t let you.

“Oh,” the girl says. “Well, I was planning on only battling Misty in the next few days but—”

“Ah-ah!” the nasal voice says, sharply enough to make you split your attention between the other man and him. “I’m on break for the few days that I’ll be here.”

“Oh, right.”

There’s a brief pause that follows, one that makes you restless and makes you shift even more in the girl’s hands. You get the feeling that it’s finally enough. That she’ll finally pay enough attention and move.

“Well,” she says, and relief coils inside you, “I think Mika’s getting a little restless so, I should probably get going.”

“Sure, sure! Get to all your training and whatnot! Best of luck, Naomi!”

“Thanks.”

The other two say their farewells, and within a minute, it’s just you and the girl again.

You’ve never felt this kind of relief before. 


	24. Chapter 24

The girl doesn’t set you down again until she has carried you out of the city and across a golden bridge. She sets you down by the riverbank and sits beside you, staring out at the water. She raises her knees, rests her arms across them, and rests her chin on her arms.

She doesn’t say anything to you.

You watch her carefully, twitching your nose, turning your ears to listen to the river and the breeze and the birds flying about. Your legs itch. Your heart thuds slowly and loudly in your chest. You need to run, leave, escape, but you don’t know why, and you don’t know why you feel like you can’t.

So you start turning in place, trying to grab the scent of everything in your immediate surroundings. The sourness of river water, the earthiness of grass and damp soil. You think you pick up the scent of fruit, but they don’t smell as sweet as the fruits you ate back home.

It’s not enough to calm you. You start walking around the girl, paws quietly shuffling through the grass. You get a better view of the mountains behind her. You were on the other side of those mountains just yesterday.

It’s only when you pass in front of the girl that she stirs. “Oh,” she mutters. You turn to her. “We should probably be training, huh…” She stands, but she moves in a way that seems strange for her. Heavily. Maybe sluggishly. She pulls her bag in front of herself and starts digging through it. “Should probably train Ren too… And…”

You know to close your eyes as soon as she pulls out the two balls. Kyou and the newcomer appear before you, the newcomer flapping his large white wings and taking in his surroundings, and Kyou standing more guardedly than you’ve seen him before. His tail is held high, and he takes a few steps away from the girl once he sees where she is. You tilt your head at him, but he doesn’t see you. He only watches the river behind you.

The girl sighs loudly. You and the newcomer look up at her. She’s staring down the path to the east, opposite the mountains. “I think I see some trainers there. So, Ren, Mika, you guys feeling up to some battles?”

You stand taller, and the newcomer chirps. Kyou pulls his chin into his shell.


	25. Chapter 25

You and the newcomer take turns battling on the route, facing off against birds, rodents, even more snakes. You keep sinking your teeth too far into your opponents, and it happens enough times that the girl stops shouting for Hyper Fangs. You’re trying, though. If only because you don’t like the worry you feel every time you use the attack.

Kyou doesn’t participate. He doesn’t show any interest in the battles. You find him staring at the river each time the newcomer takes the field. But you don’t approach him, even when he doesn’t respond to the girl’s attempt to get him to battle a small, dusty rodent. The newcomer takes the battle instead, making use of Confusion to avoid Poison Stings.

“It worked!” the girl shouts after the battle. You don’t know what she means, but you feel just as elated, running up to the newcomer and jumping side to side in the grass with excited squeaks.

It’s only after the gauntlet of battles that the girl picks up Kyou. You watch him carefully and worriedly, somehow glad that he’s not fighting against her hold.

The farther you walk along, the stronger the smell of the river gets. But eventually, you smell four other creatures. You expect a battle.

A few minutes pass before you can see them: two chatting humans sitting on the grass, and two creatures beside them, one red with a flame at the end of his tail, and one with brown and cream fur and a fluffy collar and tail. Your muscles tense in excitement.

The girl quickens her speed, leaving you to run after her. The newcomer has no trouble catching up with his wings. “Kenneth!” she shouts, still a ways away from the group.

One of the humans, the one beside the fiery creature, turns around. He throws a hand up. “Oh, Naomi! I thought you’d take longer to get here,” he says.

The girl stops a few feet from the fiery creature, which you eye cautiously. He’s curled up—napping, apparently—with his tail flame resting on the back of his neck. But even curled up, you can tell he’s larger than you are, at least three times as tall. You flatten your ears. “I only ran into a few trainers on the way here,” the girl says.

“Beat them all so quick? Are you bragging?” There’s a pause, and then he laughs.

Something pushes against your head. You look up to try to bite it, but whatever it is scratches the fur between your ears and it feels nice, so you let it pass. You see now that it’s a hand belonging to the boy who just spoke. He’s smiling at you. “Hey, Mika.” He pauses, and then looks up. “Mika, right?”

“Yeah,” the girl says.

He gives you a few more scratches before gesturing to the young man sitting with him. “Oh, now you can finally meet Bill Nye the Nerd Guy.”

“Ha ha,” says the other. You look to him, attention caught by the bright purple shirt he’s wearing. (It reminds you of others like yourself.) But then your attention goes to the furry brown creature bouncing restlessly beside him. “Coming from another nerd himself.”

The furry creature is as tall as you are, but certainly not as imposing as the fiery one snoozing away. So you approach her (giving the fiery one a wide berth as you pass him), nose twitching, legs ready to bolt if need be. ”Seriously,” the girl mutters.

But the furry creature just tilts her head as you approach. She smells like dirt and river and Center rooms. She doesn’t smell like a threat, and she doesn't smell afraid. “I’m not the biggest nerd here so,” says the boy.

She sniffs you for a moment, then steps back, shakes her tail, and yips at you playfully. You back up, flatten your body, pin your whiskers back. Is she picking a fight? “It’s nice to finally meet you,” the girl says. “Kenneth has mentioned you a lot.”

But the furry creature yips again and darts away and looks back at you with bright eyes. Another bark. A happy one. You relax and watch her curiously for a moment. No, she’s not picking a fight… “Same,” says the other voice, the one belonging to the young man in purple. “He said you kicked his ass in a battle.”

There’s a scoff, but you ignore it and instead walk up to the furry creature. She shakes her tail and bounces excitedly from side to side. It’s strange. “You make it sound like it was a big battle,” says the boy.

She runs half a circle around you, and you turn to follow her, hyperaware of her teeth. They’re nowhere near as long and sharp as yours are, but you won’t give them the benefit of the doubt. “Well, I _did_ win…” the girl says.

The furry creature pounces a little too close. Your ears and whiskers go back and you hiss without thinking about it. She backs off—you think you even hear her whine—and darts away to pounce at invisible things in the grass. “Rematch? I wouldn’t mind _watching_ Kenny get his ass kicked.”

You watch her for a moment. Not threatening, no. But strange and unknown all the same. “You live to see me suffer, don’t you,” the boy says.

You stay where you are, ears picking up on everything now that you don’t have to keep a careful eye on that furry creature. “No, but it’s one of life’s joys,” says that other voice, the one in purple, over the quiet sound of the river, of the grass and trees and bushes swaying in the breeze.

You get the chance now to really take in your surroundings. Beyond the furry creature, you can see the grass slope down to the river. And on the opposite side, where the newcomer and the girl and the other two are (and that fiery creature that—yes, is still sleeping), the grass seems to go on forever. Trees line the path back to where you and the girl were earlier, where she sat and stared at the water. “I’m sure you’d get a better kick out of it if I was an actual trainer,” says the boy.

You don’t see Kyou.

It takes a bit of searching to find him. He’s to your left, sitting on the slope of grass, staring at the water. You stare at the back of his head and think of earlier, of the girl doing the same thing. “James sure makes it look like you are, when did he evolve?!” the girl says. “You didn’t tell me that!”

Kyou probably senses you, because he turns around suddenly and locks eyes with you. “Oh. Surprise,” says the boy. “Actually, we fought against a few trainers on the way here. Lots of grass-types.”

You and Kyou stare at each other for a moment. You can’t help but remember the Kyou who attacked you… however long ago that it was. (Telling time is hard for you now, but if you really thought about it, you’d realize it’s been five days.) “Well— Congrats!” the girl says.

Kyou turns back to the river quickly enough. You watch. “Not an actual trainer,” the young man scoffs.

You turn back and see the furry creature rolling around in the grass, still too energetically for your liking. “I’m not going after badges,” says the boy.

You stand up, stretch your legs, and head back to the girl, her conversation with the other two getting louder, but never any more meaningful. “What researcher _trains_ Pokémon and _battles_ with them,” she says.

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other—”

“So there, you’re both,” she says. You hold your head high as you approach, feeling proud of something.

“ _And_. Battles are good for firsthand research. For wild Pokémon, anyway. I mean, there’s a lot of documented information about how aggressive some species can be but—well, like, back home I kept studying the Pidgey and Pidgeotto populations and how Pidgey develop aggressive behaviors after evolving, and it’s a little surprising how much tamer Pidgey and Pidgeotto are out here compared to back home. I mean, it makes sense. Probably has to do with the influx of beginner trainers getting their starters and all back home, plus this dead-end cape isn’t exactly on the map for a lot of trainers. Not that that’s hard to guess at but… What.”

“Nothing~” You feel like smiling when you finally reach the girl again. You don’t know why. “I just can’t believe that the oh-so knowledgeable researcher evolved his starter before I did.”

“Well, we can’t all be as great as me.” You settle yourself by the girl’s knee, now that she’s seated on the grass. By the knee farthest away from the fiery creature who… yes, looks like he’s still sleeping. So the only one you have to keep an eye on is the newcomer.

You flinch when the young man lets out a, “Ha!” but you keep your attention on the newcomer. He sits maybe an inch or two behind you, antennae twitching, eyes seemingly focused on everything at once. You can feel his gaze on you, but somehow you can tell he’s focused on other things. Maybe the girl and the fiery creature and even the furry one, maybe Kyou too. You don’t know what to make of the newcomer.

He turns his face toward you, and you can feel that you have his undivided attention. Your ears flatten just a bit. You can feel that urge in your muscles to move and fight, as if you were anticipating the girl’s next words: “You know what? I liked Bill’s idea of a rematch. Let’s go, right now.”

But the newcomer just tilts his head at you and trills. You relax a little. “Really?” the boy whines.

“Yes! Maybe you can get Kyou to evolve too, or Mika.” And with the mention of your name, your attention goes fully to the girl. Your muscles itch again. “I need her to battle Misty.”

You look at her expectantly, and then follow her gaze to the other two humans, to the younger one who tenses when the other pats his shoulder. “Yeah, come on, Kenny, I wanna watch you lose to a gym kid.”

Nervousness hits you. Your muscles keep itching.

So you stand and stretch your legs and bounce a little in place. You look over to where the furry creature is to see if she’s bouncing too. You just barely catch a glimpse of her tail in the grass. “If you do, I’ll order pizza,” says the young man.

“ _Fine_ …”

You feel glad that the furry creature is all the way over there. As if that means you can stay here. “Yay,” the girl says. “So, what, one on one then? Or two on two? You caught a Rattata, right?”

Your muscles itch again. You look up at the girl excitedly. “Three.”

You see her frown and shake her head, but you don’t feel sad or disappointed. You feel playful. “All these secrets…”

“And you say you’re not a trainer,” says the young man.

The girl looks down at you and scratches your head. You lean into her touch. “Get ready for a battle, you guys.” And then she shouts, “You too, Kyou!”

The girl stands up and the newcomer flutters up beside her. You look back at Kyou. He doesn’t move.


	26. Chapter 26

You sit aside for now while the Butterfree takes the field against a creature just like you. The Rattata across the field smells familiar to you. Like home. You think about the grass back home, think of the far-off scent of the river, and breathe in the air here. It’s almost the same, with the smell of dirt and grass and river water, but it’s not home. It’s okay, though. You don’t miss it.

You watch the battle, watch the rush and motion of purple fur and white wings and it makes your muscles twitch. Makes you stand on your legs and jump in place with excitement. Your ears twitch when the girl calls, “Confusion!” and you look up at her and squeak excitedly. You’re happy and so is she.

It’s only when the other Rattata goes tumbling through the grass that your excitement calms and you can take everything in. You see the mixed look of disappointment and pride on the boy’s face. You see the other young man watching with interest. You see Kyou sitting a few feet away from you still looking at the river. You watch him for a moment. He only notices you watching when a red flash pulls his attention from the river. He blinks at you.

“Kyou!” the girl calls.

He turns to her. Slowly. You watch him carefully and twitch your nose. Something seems wrong.

“You wanna take the Sandshrew?” the girl asks him.

He warbles quietly and looks away from her. He stays like that for a few seconds. You keep watching him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Mm, alright. Ren, you wanna keep going?”

Eventually, the girl shouts an order and you hear the newcomer ( _ren_ , you’re beginning to think) and his opponent cry out— The commotion pulls your attention away from Kyou.

It’s only when the rodent starts stumbling around and when Ren lands to rest that the girl calls for you.

“Unless you wanna cut your losses?” the girl asks the boy.

“Ooh, cocky,” he says flatly, but even you notice the grin in his eyes. He turns to the red creature curled up on the grass. “Ready, James?”

The creature stretches his body, shakes his tail, and moves forward with sturdy steps.

You bound forward to face him, hackles raised, not at all fond of his size or the way he carries himself. You pin your ears back and bare your fangs.

There’s a pause, some sort of hesitance that you feel in the air, and then, “Ember!”

His teeth snap open and there’s fire behind them (the way Kyou spits bubbles, you think) and you bolt.

There’s heat behind you, but you don’t turn to it. Mostly you feel it, smell the tendril of smoke, and it isn’t until you’ve made a sharp turn that you see it in the corner of your eye. A flicker of orange in the grass that vanishes as quickly as it appears, leaving the grass unharmed.

“Get in close and quick!” the girl shouts. You crouch, ready to bolt before she even says it. “Quick Attack!”

You shoot forward, paws brushing over the grass, the world going into a blur around you. The only solid thing is the red creature in front of you.

You hear the boy shout something, see the creature start to move his arm, but you slam right into his shoulder knocking him back. You land a few feet away and look over your shoulder to see him stumbling—

The tail slams into your cheek.

You go flying.

There’s the pain first, radiating from your cheek into your jaw and teeth—and then the grass slams into the other side of your face, into your shoulder, into your head. And the world turns around you and the ground is on your other side and then the other and the other.

You tumble and roll and can’t get the grass beneath your feet again. It all moves too quickly.

You don’t notice when it stops. You just open your eyes and blearily watch the blades of grass in front of you. You smell dirt around you.

You don’t hear anything but the grass tickling your ears, and your heart. Beating quickly, faster than you’ve heard it before.

You feel something racing through your body, out to your paws, pooling in your stomach. Something that quickens your breath and urges you to move.

When you stand, you stand slowly, and you barely hear the girl’s, “Mika!” over the sound of your heart.

You sway on your feet, like your legs can’t handle your weight, but you need to run, to move, to get rid of that knot of energy in your gut that won’t even let you stand correctly—

There’s light.

All around you.

For a moment, you think of that red-and-white ball. But this is different. This is energy, seeping into your muscles, your bones, your thoughts, and when you finally focus on it, you feel it. You can feel your body growing, shifting, taking shape around the energy inside you, and it feels like it takes forever but then…

There’s the grass around you again. The sound of the river. The smell of dirt. The weight of your body, new but familiar all the same. There’s brown fur on your chest now. Your tail is thinner than it used to be, and furless. Your fangs…

“Mika!” you hear again, loud and excited. You look over to the girl to see her standing next to the boy now, fingers curled into fists at her heart and a huge smile on her face.

You can’t help but jump excitedly. It feels like she’s telling you to.

She looks over to the boy, her smile now a little mischievous. “Wanna finish the battle?”

It only takes one Hyper Fang. One bolt across the grass (still steady, still fast— _faster_ even, despite the bulk) and one good bite. You can’t help but smile mischievously too.

She smiles at you and hugs you and runs her hands through your fur (longer, shaggier, thicker now). “You were awesome, Mika!” She pulls away from you and scratches both your cheeks. You chirrup at her touch. “And evolving right before our gym battle too, this is perfect!”

“Congrats,” the boy says.

“Gym kid, one, little nerd, zero,” says the young man.

Your heart sinks a little, but it doesn’t drown out the excitement. You stay beside the girl while they all talk for a moment, hoping that she’ll run her hands through your fur again. That felt nice.

But she only smooths back the fur on your head once she’s pulled Kyou and the newcomer—Ren, into those red and white balls. She smiles down at you again, and then there’s red and sleep.


	27. Chapter 27 — She

“Yeah, it’s been mostly a long-distance friendship,” Naomi is saying from the couch in Bill’s living room. There’s a half-eaten slice of pepperoni pizza in one of her hands and a half-empty glass of soda in the other. She brings a knee to her chest to act as a table for her cup, pink-and-green toes wiggling over the edge of the couch. Her sneakers wait by the front door alongside Bill’s and Kenneth’s shoes. “Feels like a weird way to describe it… But yeah, sometimes he’d catch a train from Viridian to Saffron, or I would head out to Pallet.”

Bill nods from his place on the floor. He spins his cup on the coffee table and chews on his pizza. “Right, right,” he says with a mouth full of food. He glances at Kenneth before looking back to her. “But I don’t think Kenny ever mentioned how you met.”

At the other end of the coffee table, Kenneth furrows his brow. “I didn’t?”

Bill shrugs at him and gulps down his soda.

“Oh,” he says.

“Oh, well, I guess we met ‘cause of my sister.” Naomi taps her nail against the glass in her hand and stares at its bubbling contents. “She’d go back to visit Oak from time to time and she’d drag me along with her.”

“Ah,” Bill says, no food in his mouth this time. He holds his glass up and tips it toward her, as though corroborating her words. “We kinda met because of the old man too, then. I ended up having to talk to Kenny about some Silph and Devon upgrades for the ‘dex instead of Oak.” He gives Kenneth a wry look and then downs the rest of his soda, making a face at the glass like he wishes it were something else. “Gods that whole process was a pain in the ass…”

Kenneth slouches against the recliner he’s using as a backrest. He glares at the uneaten pizza crust on his plate. “I still never want to use any Devon Poké Balls…”

Naomi watches Kenneth thoughtfully, fingernail still quietly tapping against her glass, though slower now. Then her face lights up. “Oh, _right_ , you kept texting me about how much you were crying.”

Kenneth rolls his eyes, slouches further, and stares blankly at his plate. “A part of me died that night.”

“Not that you were much help,” Bill laughs. He sets his glass down on the coffee table and smirks at him. “Explaining all that shit to a high schooler with minimal knowledge of coding and no knowledge in engineering…”

Kenneth looks up at him. He narrows his eyes and furrows his brow just enough to look annoyed. He presses his lips together, hesitates, and then says, “Exactly, a part of me died that night.”

Bill laughs softly. He reaches for the soda bottle and unscrews the cap. Naomi notices and starts to finish the rest of her drink. “I’m just saying, don’t major in anything involving the intricacies of technology,” Bill says. He starts pouring more soda for himself. “Biology, right?”

Naomi offers her glass to Bill, and he refills it when he finishes with his. “Thanks,” she says. Bill nods.

“Yeah. Biology,” Kenneth sighs. He eyes the last slice of pizza in the box, looks at the half-eaten slices that Naomi and Bill still have, and claims it. “For now, at least.” He takes a bite.

“Gotta follow in their footsteps,” Naomi mutters before sipping at her soda. Kenneth gives her a look, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“You starting next April?” Bill asks as he screws the soda bottle shut.

He looks back to Bill, nods, and swallows his food. “Figured I’d take a gap year.”

Bill grins. He picks up his glass and points it at Kenneth with knowingness. “Ah. So you could be a trainer.”

Naomi grins. Kenneth scoffs and rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips turn up.

Then Bill turns his smile to Naomi. “Meanwhile you get to skip over all the extra school stuff. Lucky.”

She looks away from him immediately and stares at the bubbles in her drink. Her smile falters, but it stays. “Yeah…”

 

It’s 7:34PM now. Naomi and Kenneth sit in the Cerulean City Pokémon Center, waiting for their Pokémon to be healed after their battle earlier. The last rays of sunlight barely reach the inside of the building, outshone by streetlights.

Naomi’s chair is turned sideways. She stares absently in the direction of the front desk, one finger tapping the table beside her. Kenneth scrolls through behavioral notes he’s taken on his phone, but he looks up at Naomi from time to time. Eventually he frowns and sighs and sets the phone down. “Alright, what is it,” he says.

Naomi turns back to him and gives him a confused look, her finger paused in mid-air.

“You keep staring over there weirdly and you’ve been all, all…” He looks up like the words he’s searching for will be on the ceiling. His hand and phone beckon for the words to come, but he ends up half-sighing and half-scoffing instead. “I know something’s up,” he says.

Her eyes soften, but she just stares at him.

He slouches and frowns at her.

She rolls her eyes and turns to the front desk again. “I have a gym battle tomorrow,” she mutters. “Is it… really that weird to be worried about it?”

“Is it really the gym battle you’re worried about?”

She curls her fingers just enough that her nails audibly scratch the table.

Silence. Ten solid seconds of it. Ten seconds where the only things in the air between them are the chatter of other trainers and, based on both their expressions, concern.

Ten seconds is long enough for Kenneth, who gives up and returns to his phone.

Ten and a half seconds is long enough for Naomi, who finally speaks up. “I’m worried about everything after…”

Kenneth dutifully sets his phone down again. “After you get all the badges?”

“Yeah.” She frowns. “I mean, after that, I have to get approved by the League and all, but. After _that_ …”

This time, only three seconds of silence pass. Kenneth straightens in his seat, but his shoulders remain hunched. “Naomi, you’ll be fine. And you don’t—” He presses his lips together. Gives his phone an anxious glance. “You don’t have to… live up to your sister or whatever.” He scratches the phone’s screen.

Naomi narrows her eyes. She takes a breath. She doesn’t turn to look at him. “You don’t have to live up to your grandpa either…”

The scratching stops. He chews on his upper lip.

Somewhere else in the lobby, someone cheers about a trumpet-playing Chikorita.

“I know,” Kenneth says stiffly.

“Then I guess I know too.”

He stares at her, and then lets out a long breath. He goes back to his phone, almost desperately. “Focus on the here and now, right?” He scrolls through his notes, too quickly to actually be reading or even skimming them. “I’ll focus on my field work, you focus on your battle and kick Misty’s ass— What time is that again? Three?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m meeting you here, right?”

She nods. “Two-thirty, if that’s fine.”

“Cool.” He reaches the end of his notes, scrolls up a bit, scrolls back down. It’s aimless, but his eyes stay locked on to the screen nonetheless. Eventually he just brings up a mobile RPG. “Are we leaving for Saffron right after or…?”

“If you want. We still have to check the train schedules, though.”

“Right.”

She turns to him now, something friendlier and less anxious in her expression. But she doesn’t look directly at him, and he doesn’t look up from his phone.


	28. Chapter 28

It happens as quickly as blinking.

One moment, you’re tired and smiling and enjoying the girl’s touch after a hard-fought battle. The next, the air reeks of salt, the floor beneath you is cold and slick, and there’s an odd creature floating in the water before you.

You scramble back, away from the brown, faceless _thing_ and away from the rectangle of water. You snort once, twice. The salt stings.

“Mika, you ready?”

You slip into battle-mode easily. No time to waste.

Heart pounding in your chest, you sweep your tail behind you, pin back your ears, and take in your surroundings as quickly as you can. Walls and white are the first things that strike you, then the rows of metal on the sides and the people occupying them. On the right, a boy and a girl with a wide-eyed, violet shell sitting between them. On the left, the boy and the young man (no longer in purple) from earlier.

And straight ahead of you, on the other side of the water, stands a girl with bright orange hair and a displeased look on her face.

“Mika!”

You focus. You glare at the thing in the water.

The other girl sighs. “I can’t say I’m very impressed so far…”

“Hyper Fang!”

You don’t think about attacking. You see it. You run forward, paws scrabbling on the slick tile, but you manage to gain speed. You hiss and bare your teeth, and the red gem in the thing’s center begins to glow, but you jump.

You sink your fangs into one of its arms.

It tastes like salt.

You fall into the water, and it’s cold and stings your eyes and goes up your nose the wrong way. The thing flashes between your teeth, there’s water in your mouth, and _air, air_ —

You pry your teeth from it and kick your way up to the surface. There’s light and air and, “Mika, you okay?” You barely spot her past the fur hanging over your eyes. You paddle your way to her, try to find purchase in the shallow grooves between the tiles, and somehow, claw your way up. The water in your fur weighs you down, so you shake out as much of it as you can. “Mika, that was great!” the girl adds, and you look up and see her smiling.

There’s a flash of red light at the edge of your vision. By the time you look back, the brown thing in the water is gone.

“Already down to one, Misty?” the girl asks. But she sounds different than usual. She sounds confident, forceful. Taunting. You bristle your fur at the orange-haired girl.

Even from this distance, you can see the irritation on the other girl’s face. “Don’t get cocky, Naomi.” She tosses one of those spheres, one that’s blue and red, and there’s light and then… something large and violet and faceless, another gem in its center. It bobs along the surface of the water. You flatten your ears and hiss at it.

“Water Pulse!”

“Hyper Fang!”

You bare your fangs and run, leap from the edge of the pool, but you’re already in the air when you see its gem glowing, see the water gathering in front of it—

You don’t see much more after that.

It’s not as much of a shock this time. There’s water and cold and the taste of salt, the rough skin of its arm around your fangs. Your eyes sting and your paws find purchase between its arms. It moves under your feet, the water splashes around you, and voices:

“Rapid Spin! Get her off you!”

“Hold tight, Mika, get another hit in!”

Your heart pounds, your muscles burn, everything swirls around you and then—

“Swift!”

It strikes you in the gut. The cry that leaves your throat is shrill and breathless and you lose your footing.  
The water slows and muffles everything, pulls everything into a pause. It’s cold, airless, and quiet, save for the flashes of worry and frustration that stir in your chest and head. They’re distant enough that you don’t know what to think of them.

There’s brightness above, like the white that follows that red light.

You kick.

Air comes back, sound comes back, “Mika!” comes back, and you slam your paws against the water and gulp down the air. You remember the purple thing. You’d bare your fangs and hiss if you weren’t gasping for air.

“Water Pulse!”

“Behind you!”

Water again. Soundlessness.

Something rushes up to you.

Something rushes inside you, something angry, and proud, and bigger than you would’ve thought.

It’s not yours.

You spin, water flowing through your fur, fur floating around your eyes, but you spot it. Bright violet.

You kick forward, open your mouth, and sink your teeth in. It thrashes and moves and drags you with it, forward, upward, in circles and then—air.

Your ears break the surface first.

There’s a growl and a laugh and red light. The purple thing disappears from your teeth.

You kick desperately at the water, eyes searching, but it’s gone. No sign of violet.

Your lungs burn and your tongue tastes salty and you can’t quite breathe right. But there’s a thought of smugness. You see it on the girl’s face as she looks at the one with orange hair. “So you thought I wasn’t gonna win?”

The other one just scoffs.

You claw your way out of the water and back onto the tile. You try to shake the water out of your fur, but the girl crouches beside you, throws a cloth over you, and ruffles your fur with it. “Mika, that was so great!” she tells you. She runs the cloth over your face and you grumble at it, but when she pulls it away and hugs you, you decide you didn’t mind it after all. You feel drier and… warmer. Happy, and proud.

She gives you a quick scratch on your head before standing up and approaching the orange-haired girl. You watch for a moment, whiskers twitching, trying to wrap your head around the thoughts you feel. Joy and pride, yes. But… Irritation? Looking at the orange-haired girl makes your muscles twitch. You move to follow.

“Here,” the other girl huffs. Something small and blue glimmers in her hand as she passes it over to the girl.

You watch the girl’s face as she takes it. Her eyes narrow, and her lips frown. You don’t know what you see in her expression, but you feel puzzled. “Thanks,” she says a moment later.

“Yeah. Don’t expect this to be easy—”

“I never did.”

“—‘cause you seem to have everything laid out for you, but that’s not how most of us had it.”

You flatten your ears. You feel that itch in your muscles again.

The girl scoffs, brushes her fingertips against your head, and turns to leave. “Come on, Mika.”

A hiss builds at the back of your throat, but the orange-haired girl rolls her eyes and starts to walk away. You settle for flattened ears and leave too. 


	29. Chapter 29

There’s little room at the table for you and your wings. You try to rest on the girl’s head, but she sinks under you and says, “Ah, Ren, you’re heavy…” She wants you to get off her, you can feel that. You flap your wings and hover above her for a moment, eyes scanning for a place to rest—to no avail. The space next to the girl in the booth is taken up by the blue one. (You don’t know where the now-brown one is.)

Across from them sit the two from yesterday, the friend and the acquaintance. At least, they feel like they’re supposed to be a friend and an acquaintance, the former feeling like a warm, familiar comfort, and the latter feeling entirely unlike that. He doesn’t feel uninviting or intimidating, but he doesn’t have the same pull that the friend does.

You turn your attention to the table itself in one last-ditch effort to find a place to rest. But the table is taken up by the small, fluffy, brown creature sitting in front the acquaintance.

You decide to just stay afloat.

“Sorry, Ren,” the girl says.

There’s a little regret in her tone and thoughts. You don’t quite understand it. It’s not like you _needed_ to rest. It just would’ve been nice.

“Did you know Butterfree can weigh up to seventy pounds?” the friend asks.

There’s enough shock in her head to make you look toward the friend. He looks straight at her with a calm expression that makes you think—that makes the _girl_ think he knows too much.

“What?” she says.

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

“Of course you just know that,” the acquaintance says. The brown creature on the table mewls at his words in a way that reminds you of the blue one. You turn to his small figure seated beside the girl and catch him staring at something under the table.

There’s a twinge of discomfort (from the sudden silence, you think), but the acquaintance speaks up and then there’s relief. “How long did you say the train ride to Saffron is?” he asks.

“Almost an hour,” the girl says. The thought that follows immediately makes your stomach grumble before she even voices it. “Just in time for ramen and Slowpoke tail.”

“Aaand now I’m hungry,” the friend says.

“How long are you staying there again?” the acquaintance asks.

What follows is a spike of excitement and an immediate spike of disappointment, sharp and sudden enough to make you look at the girl, frowning as she is, with confusion. “Right, Celadon… What was that for again? Fuji only said something to me about finding a Pokémon.”

“Gramps didn’t say,” the friend answers. “And I haven’t even talked to the guy yet. I mean, I don’t mind Gramps trying to call in favors with his friends for me but…”

“Still, it sounds like a big researcher break,” says the acquaintance. “Congrats on graduating from trainer-researcher.”

“What about your ‘research’ break with Celio, huh?” the friend shoots back. “Isn’t that coming up soon?”

Whatever they said makes you chirrup with laughter. The girl doesn’t laugh along with you, though. All she expresses of her amusement is a quiet, “Oh, right.” But there’s a pause that makes that amusement build, that strikes you with a bit of uncertainty or hesitation, and the girl goes on to say, “Something about confessing?”

“What,” the acquaintance scoffs. The uncertainty leaves you.

“Yeah, get to that,” the friend says.

Ears move at the edge of your vision. You look to the table and find the brown creature staring at the acquaintance curiously, ears and tail held straight up. “Yeah, thanks, Kenny.”

“I’ll gladly give the speech at your wedding.”

“So! Saffron!” the acquaintance shouts, suddenly enough that the brown creature flinches and grumbles. She slumps onto her stomach, ears flopping, and then rolls over onto her back to bat at the air. You tilt your head at her, and the motion seems to be enough to catch her attention. She stares at you for a moment and tilts her head back.

The friend gives a short laugh. “I’ll only be there for a couple days.”

Her ears go up again, and she mewls at you.

“Is that long enough for Naomi’s battle?”

There’s amusement, fear, resignation—and they mesh in this confusing way that makes you look at the girl again. You catch a glimpse of the blue one, now frowning at whatever is under the table.

“Oh, no,” says the girl, but she isn’t smiling or frowning or doing anything that gives away what’s running through her head. You tilt your head at her, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Bree wants to battle me with at least her six-badge team. So I was thinking of going to Vermillion first, then Celadon, then Fuschia, and then I’ll go battle her.”

“Ah, the older sibling giving the younger sibling a hard time,” the acquaintance says.

She shrugs. You shiver a little. Nerves. “She just wants to test me against some of her stronger Pokémon. Get an idea of how I’d battle as a gym leader.”

“Right, right…” The acquaintance sighs. “Being a gym leader, I couldn’t do that. Too many kids to deal with… They mentor sometimes too, right? I couldn’t do that, I can’t teach.”

“No shit,” the friend laughs.

His laughter doesn’t diffuse the tension in your wings though. You flap your wings hard to shake out the nervousness, earning yourself a glance from the girl. She doesn’t even meet your eyes. She just slips into a stiff smile and looks across the table almost immediately.

“ _And besides_ ,” the acquaintance continues, “it’s… Leadership and being in the public eye and all, eh. Good luck, Naomi.”

Your heart pounds. The girl just breathes out a polite laugh. “Thanks.”


	30. Chapter 30

There’s a moment when the words, “Naomi Tanaka, to the front desk,” ring throughout the building. Whatever they mean, they seem to make the girl slide out of her seat with a sigh—a sigh of relief, you note. The friend and the acquaintance stand as well.

“That’s Mika,” she says to herself. She pulls those red and white spheres out of her bag, one pointing toward the blue one still in the seat, and the other pointing toward you. “Alright guys, time to get going.”

And then there’s redness.

And then there’s nothing.

The next time you see anything, it’s white light, then a ceiling, walls, windows framing the night sky, a table, the girl, the friend, and someone new: a woman who is older than the girl but looks like half of her. She has the same narrow, brown eyes, the same straight black hair. Her face isn’t as round as the girl’s, but their noses are small and flat in the same way. She makes you think of others of your own kind.

“Oh, they’re so cute!” the woman says. She smiles at you.

She makes you think of a mother.

The woman—the girl’s mother, you assume—looks to whatever is beside you. It’s only when you follow her gaze that you notice the blue one and the brown one are here as well, the former looking around with wide eyes, and the latter pinning back her ears and whiskers.

The mother gasps and goes to pick up the blue one, who squirms in her hold for a moment. “Oh and aren’t _you_ just an absolute cutie you adorable little booger,” she coos.

You watch, antennae twitching, trying to make sense of the girl’s discomfort flitting in your chest. Did it only appear now, when the mother picked up the blue one? Or had it been there while you were waking, in that moment when you glanced at your surroundings and saw this new face? You look to the girl for some sort of answer, wings stretching and ready to take off—but she’s smiling. She looks fine.

You brush it off. Whatever answer you wanted, you know you won’t find it in her expression. You take to looking around instead.

This isn’t a Center. This place is small and quiet, and something like familiarity reaches you. Something like home. Behind you sits a man in front of a large, flashing rectangle. But his gaze isn’t on the rectangle. Instead, he faces the girl and the mother and you, and when he catches you staring, he smiles. It’s the same smile the girl has. His cheeks and eyes bunch up the same way hers do, softening an equally round face. It’s comforting, how similar the expression is.

He makes you think of a father.

He waves at you, and you’re struck with the thought of greetings. It reminds you of the girl.

“…dinner, right?” is all you catch the girl saying, mostly because your sudden hunger prompts you to listen for human words again.

“Yep!” says the mother. “It’s sitting on the stove waiting for you guys. And I’ve got something for the little guys too. Leaves and fruits, and if she wants, a few Slowpoke tails for… Mika?”

“Yeah.”

“And for your Pokémon too, Kenneth!”

“Oh. Uh, thank you, Mrs. Tanaka.”

The friend lets out his own creatures in a flash of white light—the red one with the flame on his tail, the yellow one with the tough, dusty hide, and the purple one that looks the way the brown one used to. They stand on the other side of the table, but their presence makes the room feel smaller and cramped. At the edge of your vision, you see the brown one pin back her ears and assume she misses the extra space, but when you look at her, you see that she’s actually glaring at the red one. Nervousness flickers in your head.

The red one, at least, ignores her long enough that she relaxes.

You yourself don’t relax until a few minutes later, when a plate of leafy greens is set down in front of you. You waste no time grabbing lettuce and sliced bits of fruit, nervousness already forgotten. As you nibble on half an oran berry, you catch the brown one sniffing at her food before biting into it experimentally. The others try their food with similar caution.

The blue one doesn’t eat on the floor like the rest of you. Instead, the mother takes him to her seat by the man and feeds him leaves and fruits that float over to him from a hovering bowl. For the most part, the mother’s attention is split between the blue one and the flashing rectangle. The girl and the friend sit at the table and eat there.

“Jojo is meditating your room,” the mother says, still focused on the blue one and the flashing rectangle. “I think she misses you. She always was pretty sentimental for a Medicham.”

“I’ll say hi to her later,” the girl says.

You nibble on your food, antennae twitching and trying to make sense of the girl’s uneasy comfort. Your mind searches for anything that might help you understand it, but mostly all that comes to you is an assortment of airy sounds from the flashing rectangle.

No one in the room really says anything else.


	31. Chapter 31

When you wake again, greeted by whiteness and sunlight floating indoors, that uneasy comfort is no longer there. What bothers you instead is aggravation.

This is not a Center, nor is this the place from last night. You don’t know what exactly this is other than a place of tension or combat. Which, for a moment, is confusing. This place is open, spacious, brightly lit, and familiar (though not homey), and you think that’s reason enough for it to be a place of contentedness. You don’t know why the girl would feel irritated.

But a new voice says, “Oh! Hold on, I remember their names,” and you follow it, and you understand.

Before you stands a tall woman with eyes pinker than any flower or berry you’ve ever seen. She reminds you of the girl, but it’s not her appearance that does it (though there _are_ similarities: the same small, flat nose; the same straight black hair; the same narrow eyes, color aside). It’s the irritation that makes you think of the girl, that makes you think of pressure and fear and uncertainty. Of competition. Of needing to push past your siblings when you were younger and smaller, just to eat and survive.

“Kyou, Mika, and Ren, right?” the woman—the sister, you think—says, pink eyes falling on you at the end of her words. She looks past you and continues, “You _were_ still planning on going to Diglett’s Tunnel, right? For Surge?”

“Yeah,” the girl says, her voice low and forceful in a way that’s new to you and doesn’t give away the sudden nervousness that makes your heart thud.

You turn to the girl, expecting to see a smile on her face, but her expression gives her away this time. She’s frowning, looking down and to the side, away from you, away from the sister, away from the blue one and the brown one standing at the edge of your vision, and away from the friend, who stands just behind and beside her and watches her with what you think is concern.

“Just making sure!” the sister says. “And… you’re sure you still don’t want that Abra?”

“Yes.”

“Not specifically for Surge but—”

“ _Yes_ , Bree, I’m sure I don’t want the Abra.”

“Okay, I just… wanna make sure you’re taken care of and that I’m doing all I can to help out,” the woman says, taken aback. It irritates you. The way she says it. Or, it irritates the girl. Either way, you flap your wings forcefully and try to shake it off.

“I think she’ll be fine with her own team,” the friend says. The frown leaves the girl’s face, but she continues to stare at the ground. “Besides, isn’t losing to Diglett kinda Surge’s thing?”

The sister snorts. “Well, that _would_ be enough for a third badge. But, these guys could use some more training, I can tell.”

Your limbs twitch with anger. You chirr and try to shake it off again, feeling frustrated yourself. Somehow it doesn’t help that the girl doesn’t look as angry as she feels. “I’ve only been at this for like a week,” she says.

“I know!” the sister says. Her voice gets high-pitched and it grates and you want to leave for a moment, or at least you want the girl to leave—not for long, just for long enough that the anger stops. “I’m just saying they can definitely be taken a step further.”

The girl sighs and rolls her eyes. “What, do _you_ want to train them?”

“I— I mean, I _could_ , I’ll train them for you!”

A pause. Your wings flap harder, harder. You have to look away from the girl. You spot the brown one pacing a half-circle around her. The blue one warbles. “Fine,” she mumbles.

For a moment, there’s tense, awkward silence. The brown one continues pacing, the girl still looks away, and the friend shifts his gaze between her and the sister. His eyes briefly meet yours, and it seems like that’s what he needed—some third creature to look at him and wordlessly confirm that someone needs to do something—to break the silence.

He looks to girl and asks, “Uh, should we grab lunch then?”

Relief and apathy and “Sure,” she says. Your wings relax, just a little.

“Oh, okay!” the sister says. “I’ll just get a few levels on your Pokémon in the meantime, don’t worry. Have fun!”

The girl only glances at her. She’s frowning again. “Thanks…”


	32. Chapter 32

You watch the girl and the friend leave. It’s what you wanted a moment ago, but her absence leaves you feeling confused and, somehow, alone. Her thoughts slowly leave yours, her anger dissipates, and you feel a little… empty. Lacking.

“Okay,” the sister says behind you, cheery and determined and sounding a little like the girl might have a few days ago. It seems like a strange connection to make, given that the girl was so upset with her just a moment ago. “Kyou, Mika, Ren. Let’s head over to the battlefield, okay?” Her shoes clack against the floor as she walks.

It’s only when you see the blue one moving that you follow.

You fly past a bored man sitting behind the front desk, past a set of wide doors, and into a delineated expanse of space that makes you think of, for whatever reason, a cross between the forest at night and that place by the river where you met the friend and the acquaintance. This place is wide and plain, but dark save for some floating orbs of bright, pink light that hover throughout the room. The orbs call to you, somehow. You can’t help but stare at them, and maybe it’s not related to them, but something seems to tickle your mind the way the girl does.

“Alright, we probably don’t have a lot of time,” the sister starts, “so the sooner I can figure out where you guys are right now, the better.”

It’s the flash of light that tears your eyes away from the orbs.

What emerges from the light is a round and pink creature with skinny limbs and blue feet and ears. She flashes a wide smile at you, cheeks seeming brighter and pinker than they really are, and waves. You tilt your head.

“Put up some screens and barriers, Lorene. Let’s see how hard they can hit.”

The pink one grunts and holds her hands out, moving them in circles. The air buzzes, and you think you catch something glint in front of her in the low light, something tall and wide, like an invisible wall. But there’s nothing there. Maybe you imagined it. A trick of the light.

There’s clacking again. You turn and see the sister pick up the blue one, inspecting his stomach and his shell with a puzzled a look on her face. “You’re really young, huh…” She tickles his nose, and he warbles happily. It seems like an odd moment to you, on both their parts. Unfamiliar. “I think we’ll have to make this into a bit of a game for you,” she coos. “But first.” She puts him back down, pats his head, stands straight, and points at the pink one. “Can you aim for Lorene with a Water Gun?”

The blue one stares at her for a moment, warbles, and then fires a stream of water at the pink one. His aim is good, but you can see that it doesn’t quite hit the pink one. Rather, it seems to hit a wall in front of her, and the pink one only blinks in response. Maybe you weren’t seeing things after all.

There’s a pause, and then the sister says, “Alright, how about a Tackle? At Lorene again.”

The blue one just warbles. When nothing happens, you look away from the pink one and her invisible wall and turn to the blue one and the sister again.

The sister smiles at him and points at the pink one again. “Go ahead! Aim for Lorene with Tackle.”

He seems to understand this time, even though you don’t. He runs forward on his short legs and rams into the invisible wall, bouncing off it and stumbling back even though the pink one hardly reacts.

“Hm. What do you think, Lorene?” she calls. “Think he’ll evolve soon?”

The pink one smiles widely and gives a thumbs up. You don’t know what it means.

Clacking footsteps again. You look back to see the sister has picked up the blue one again to tickle his nose. “Good job, Kyou!” He warbles happily again. It’s still odd to you.

She commands the brown one in a similar manner, though the brown one seems to need more repetition than the blue one did. The sister has to say Hyper Fang so many times before the brown one actually does something.

The repetition does nothing for you.

She says things like Gust and Confusion to you over and over again, but nothing accompanies them. There’s no thought of action behind them. So you just hover there, tilting your head at her, wondering when the girl will come back so you can make sense of things again.

Eventually she stops repeating herself and just stares at you with those bright pink eyes, brow furrowed, foot clacking against the floor, nail caught between her teeth. “How the fuck did she train you, I don’t understand…”

She looks between you and the other two as they happily chase the pink one around the room. Part of you wants to join in, if only because the other two are doing it. But part of you wants to figure out why the sister is staring at you in the troubled way that she is and what she’s been saying to you all this time.

Her frowning stops. “Maybe…”

Something stirs in the air (it reminds you of the girl’s thoughts somehow), and a sphere floats out from her pocket, clicks, and expands. It looks almost like the ones that the girl keeps for you and the other two, but instead of red, this one is black and yellow.

You briefly wonder if there’s something different about it, but the brightness it releases is just the same. You figure the dreamlessness it offers must be the same too.

The light gives way to a yellow creature almost as tall as the girl is, with a pointed face and with metal in his hands. “Max, could you help me out here?” the sister says. The yellow one nods and looks at you with glowing eyes.

It’s like the girl, but stronger, clearer. Deliberate.

When she says to use Gust, now you see the thought of wings and wind, the thought of buffeting a target with air. When she says to use Confusion, you can feel the buzz in your mind before you unleash it against the pink one like she asks. When she says to use Sleep Powder or Stun Spore, the moves come to you easily even though you’ve never used them before. It’s easy to flap your wings and unleash a spray of dust over the pink one and whatever safeguard protects her from unwilling sleep or paralysis.

You can feel the sister’s relief.

She has you and the brown one spar with the pink one, trading teeth and wind and beams of energy, chasing down the pink one and her invisible walls, the sister’s thoughts relayed to your mind the whole time.

There are moments when you have the chance to rest, to catch your breath, to look around. You pause now and watch as the brown one lies down, panting, though the pink one continues to dance and wave her hands in the air .

The blue one seems similarly full of energy, though in all fairness, you don’t think he’s been running around firing attack after attack the way you and the brown one have. He jumps after the yellow one, firing jets of water to shoot those sticks of metal out of the air. Sometimes the yellow one vanishes and reappears somewhere else in the room, leaving the blue one to warble happily and chase after him on his stubby legs.

It’s still odd. Disappointing, even. It looks like it would be fun to join them.

So you’re glad for the relief that comes with the sudden brightness.

The blue one is in the middle of a bubbly warble when he begins to glow and grow. From this short distance, you can see that he grows larger than the brown one, and almost as large as yourself. His tail lengthens and flows, and somethings soft sprout from his head. He is still blue when the light fades (which you find, for some reason, something of a relief, or a comfort), but the happiness in his eyes has been replaced with confusion and wariness.

How different that is from the happiness in your own head, along with that relief from earlier.

You realize you can still feel the yellow one’s presence in your mind, as well as the sister’s.

“Kyou!” she calls. Her clacking footsteps take her up to the still-blue one. She crouches before him with a proud smile on her face and brushes back his new furry ears. He warbles, deeper now than when he was smaller. “Ah, I knew I was on the right track with you! I told her I’d train you well ,” she says.

She sounds happy, but the thoughts that accompany her words strike you as strange—thoughts of the girl and results and validation. You don’t understand why she feels like a weight has been lifted off her.


	33. Chapter 33

Something happy and familiar tickles the back of your mind while you fire a Gust at the pink one. While the feeling _you_ have isn’t quite relief, you’re glad all the same to finally feel the girl’s presence again. She’s much more comforting to have in your head than the yellow one and the sister.

But the happiness leaves you moments after the girl and the friend enter the open room that you and the others are in. The doors swing open, and their voices and a greeting come to you.

And resentment hits. It’s hot and sudden, like there’s something to fight back against, to cry out against, to buffet the air against, harder and harder, but the pink one still barely flinches—

“Oh, you’re back!” the sister says, bright and happy and wholly opposite to the girl, and to have both of them in your head is frustrating enough that for a moment—for a brief, cathartic moment—you think to direct your attack at the yellow one. But your Gust ends and the pink one gives you a thumbs up, and the pause is enough to remind of you of the gentler prospect of respite.

“Awesome, right?” the sister says, and the anger and joy and frustration knot in your stomach. You chirr and look to her and the girl, and for once, you see the feelings in your head match the girl’s expression.

“Uh,” says the friend, and “You evolved my _starter_?” says the girl. You look to the blue one and the lowered furl of fur on his ears and tail, the frown on his face and the glimmer in his eyes that looks equal parts angry, sad, and insulted.

“Well—yeah!” she says, shocked but still proud, and you wish the yellow one would stop already. “I figured he was close to evolving. I gotta say, I was surprised you hadn’t already, but you might just need a better way to reach him, you know? He’s pretty young, and he responded well when I made it more into a game. You should’ve seen him chasing after Max, it was the most adorable thing.”

You chirr and flap your wings harder to shake off the anger, but it only barely helps.

“I hadn’t evolved him ‘cause—”

“Is Ren okay…?” the sister asks.

“Wh—”

“You know, he gave me the hardest time out of all of them, I had to have Max play telepath for me.”

That’s it. You turn to the yellow one, floating idly near the blue one, metal sticks twirling in the air, and you chirr at him and he looks with those glowing eyes— And he gets the message. He stops. He immediately drops out of your head, and the sister’s presence goes with him.

You’re still left with the girl’s anger.

“I—” The girl falters and looks to the friend at the same time you do. But he looks baffled and powerless, and something about that leaves you at a loss for what to do. “Ren— I have never had a problem training Ren so. I-I don’t know, that’s on you.”

There’s a simmering pause. It lasts long enough for you to calm down a bit, to consider yourself and how _you_ feel (you think you don’t feel much more than confusion—at the sister and the girl and what exactly is going on), and to consider the sister with a little less anger. It doesn’t rid you of all the tension in your body.

“Ah, well,” the sister starts. “Maybe Ren’s just not good with new people? Kyou and Mika were excellent. And like I said, making things into a game with Kyou would help him.”

“Yeah,” the girl mutters.

The blue one warbles quietly, and the friend still looks like he can’t say or do much of anything. 

Something nervous and daring stirs in your gut. “How long until you leave for Unova again?” the girl asks.

“Oh don’t worry,” the woman says, brightly enough to make your wingbeats quicken again, just a little, just enough to make you want to leave, “I’ll still be around for advice if you need it. Pokéstar Studios won’t keep me _that_ busy.” 

The girl snorts. You chirr, like you can scoff and match her dismissiveness. It feels insulting, whatever passed between the two of them. Insulting enough to remind you of earlier, of that need to cry out and fight back.

All the girl says is, “That’s not what I meant…”


	34. Chapter 34

Dinner that night isn’t so silent. You all eat on the floor just like the previous night: you and your companions beside you, the creatures that accompany the friend in another corner of the room, and one newcomer who isn’t eating at all, like the rest of you are. Whatever this creature is—gray and pink, thin armed with puckered lips—she hovers behind the girl’s chair and meditates. She is one of the few presences in this room that don’t bother the girl.

Unlike all of you, the others—the girl, the friend, the parents, and, this time, the sister—eat around the table tonight. And tonight, rather than let the sound from that glowing rectangle fill the air, they talk. Their words are meaningless to you, but the girl’s silent reactions to (you think) what they say are considerable enough that you try to decipher their words nonetheless.

When the mother says, “I think it’d be a good idea to stay here and train with Sabrina for your battle with Surge,” you feel the girl’s desire to disagree in some way.

When the sister says, “I _do_ know all his strategies. I could show you the best way to battle him,” the heaviness that settles on the girl is strong enough that you slouch at your bowl. You barely notice the brown one look your way, or the blue one warble at you with concern. “I know a few tricks you can pull with a Diglett.”

“I guess,” the girl huffs. Metal clinks against porcelain, and then, “You know you can pull the contacts out right? They’re kinda creepy…”

The sister pauses. “People like them…”

“Oh hush, they’re fine,” the mother says.

Something rings in your head. Something deep and imposing that makes you think of the girl and the father. Something that you think the girl disagrees with, just as she disagrees with the mother and the sister. Something about complying that makes you and the girl shrink.

“Well,” the friend starts tentatively. You feel the slightest bit of hope tug at you, enough so that you look up at the table again. “Doesn’t that kinda take the fun out of it? If you have other people make up strategies for you?”

“Not giving her a whole strategy,” the sister says. You see her pause, blink, and go back to her food. “Just, you know, giving some pointers.”

Clinking again, and a shimmer in the air that floats something small and white toward the table, shaking it over the mother’s plate.

That thought rings in your head again, still deep but less imposing now. More agreeable. Though the girl feels heavy nonetheless.

You slouch again. There’s no appetite in you anymore, and your bowl of lettuce and flower petals, as appealing as it looks, won’t fix that tonight. Maybe the blue one senses that, because he offers you one of his fruits, but you don’t take it.

For a few moments, only clinking follows. Something restless grows inside you. Your wings twitch and you can’t help but wonder if there’s some way for you to pull the girl out of here, or if sleep will come early tonight.

“Well,” says the mother suddenly. Your wings twitch again and your gaze immediately goes back to the table, your bowl of unappetizing food already forgotten. “What about you, Sabrina? Any more details on that movie?”

It’s not relief that hits you. You feel more like you can relax, yes, but what settles on you, somehow unsurprisingly, is disappointment.

“I’m not _really_ supposed to say anything, _but_ …”

The rest of their talk only makes you feel worse.


	35. Chapter 35 — She

Naomi sets three Poké Balls down on her nightstand, but she doesn’t just leave them there. She stands there, by the nightstand, by her bed, with the Poké Balls pressed between her fingers and polished wood. And she stares at them. Her expression is neutral but not perfectly so. Just off enough that it seems like she’s thinking hard about something, like the way she rolls the spheres back and forth isn’t an entirely absentminded action.

And then, something seems to snap her out of it. A thought, perhaps, since nothing in the room moves or flashes or rings or does anything that could pull her attention away from the Poké Balls. Her gaze refocuses, and she pulls her hand from the spheres and leaves them alone. She doesn’t leave the nightstand or the side of her bed yet. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, crouches just enough to scratch at an itch above her knee, right beneath the hem of the shorts she wears to bed, and then stares at the Poké Balls for a moment longer before finally turning toward her bedroom door.

Her eyes catch sight of the things on her dresser before she goes: high school notebooks she, for whatever reason, didn’t throw out on the eve of graduation; books on Pokémon training and Pokémon care and handling psychic-types, all gifted to her by Sabrina; a handful of small RPG video game carts that she never put back in their rightful place; a dead set of headphones that she still hasn’t thrown out; a tube of almond and vanilla lotion; and three small trophies.

The trophies are the only specific objects that earn her attention. They stand in a line, with only the one in the middle facing outward, taller than the other two and bearing a small plaque that reads, “Yamabuki Junior High School Karate Tournament,” on one line and, in bigger font on the following line, “First Place.” The smaller trophies read similarly. The oldest of the three proclaims to the wall “Second Place” while the most recent, now two years old, also tells the wall “Yamabuki Academy High School Karate Tournament, Third Place.”

She stares at them for three seconds, frowns, eyes squinting with something like sorrow or disappointment, and leaves her room. The door softly clicks shut behind her.

The floorboards creak as she makes her way down the narrow hall into the combined living and kitchen space, where her parents sit curled up on the couch, Ami talking at Haru while Haru keeps his half of the conversation quietly in Ami’s head. The television glows and murmurs at them, though it seems, in all aspects, ignored by its supposed viewers. Even Naomi doesn’t glance at it as she walks past. A typical Wednesday night for the three of them.

Naomi wordlessly walks to the cabinet holding all their tea and throws its doors open, eyes scanning its shelves. Sencha, mugicha, oolongcha, gyokuro—

“There’s no matcha?”

Her parents face her, and Ami is the one who answers, with an apologetic expression, “Oh, sorry, I forgot to pick some up before you came home.”

Naomi rolls her eyes at the cabinet, grumbles, and shuts the doors with more force than necessary, loudly enough to give away her irritation, but not loudly enough to seem bratty. She opens the fridge instead and grabs the pitcher of water.

As she pours out half a glass, Ami asks, “Is everything okay?” and Naomi furrows her brow.

“I just wanted some matcha,” she says, voice low and displeased enough to, given that it was almost midnight, sound like mere grumpiness from being tired. It made her tone dismissible.

But her father still sends the question, Are you sure? ringing through the heads of his daughter and wife.

“Mm-hmm,” Naomi hums into her water, and downs the glass. She sets the empty cup in the sink and places the pitcher back in the fridge. As she walks past the television and into the hallway, she calls a tired or obligatory, “G’night,” that at any other hour might have prompted family or friend to push for a reply that sounded more truthful.

So her parents just return the pleasantry and say nothing else.

She shuffles down the hall with a frown, eyes looking down at the floor, and stops at the door to the room next to hers, the guest bedroom that used to be Sabrina’s room. Two knocks, and Kenneth immediately replies, “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

A pause, and then, “Yeah, sure.”

The door clicks and creaks as she opens it, the way it has for years because, despite Sabrina’s complaints in the past, no amount of oil could ever fix it. Naomi doesn’t hesitate at the creak, doesn’t flinch at it, just moves to take a step inside. But her foot doesn’t make it past the threshold before a balled-up towel hits her in the face.

Kenneth snickers with the glee of a child, cheeks and eyes bunched up with mischief. Naomi presses her lips together and evidently tries not to grin, but she fails. Perhaps in an effort to retaliate against her own amusement and almost certainly, logically, against Kenneth’s, she kicks the balled-up towel back inside the room, toward the end of the bed where he wouldn’t be able to reach it. She crosses the threshold now, shuts the door behind her with a click and a creak, and says, still failing to fight off the smile, “I hate you.”

“That’s okay.” He grins at her from his seat on the side of the bed, leaned over with his elbows on his knees and a hand tousling his damp brown hair, speckling the shoulders of his T-shirt with water. “What’s up?”

The rebellious smile leaves her face the same way that Kenneth’s smile leaves his as he watches her expression change. She drops onto the bed next to him, slouches, frowns at the floor, and throws herself back onto the mattress with a whine. “I feel crappy…”

Kenneth straightens enough to look at her face. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just watches her quietly and patiently.

She furrows her brow and stares at a crack in the paint in the ceiling. “I can’t believe she evolved Kyou…”

“Oh…” He sits up and turns so he can face her, one foot up on the bed and the other still on the floor. He furrows his brow, frowns a little, and watches her—as she stares at the ceiling, as she glances at him, as she looks back at the ceiling when he doesn’t say anything.

Half a minute passes before she breaks the silence. “I shouldn’t have let her train them…”

He shrugs. “I mean—”

“She just—” she starts, and already her fists clench and hover a few inches off the mattress, shaking as she speaks. “She always has to act like she’s so much better than everyone at everything and I can’t believe I let her—” She scowls at the ceiling, but there seems to be more than just anger in her eyes.

She doesn’t say anything else. She scowls and grits her teeth and keeps her fists clenched, like all she can do is hold on to the frustration and the tension until it comes to a simmer, and finally she lets it out in a huff. Her scowl loses some of its intensity, but it remains. Her hands fall back to the mattress, but her fingers stay curled.

And Kenneth keeps watching her. His gaze is some mix of fondness, sympathy, and—given how his lips are pressed together—annoyance. He sighs through his nose. “So I’m guessing… next time, you’re _not_ going to give her an opportunity to do that?” he asks, voice low, and level, and careful.

“There’s not gonna be a next time,” she mutters.

“Mm.” He looks away from her. Looks down at the leg he has on the mattress and scratches his shin. “Does that mean you’re not staying here then?”

She raises an eyebrow at him, scowl now gone but fingers still curled. “Huh?”

“She kept saying you should stay to train with her.” He pauses. He doesn’t change his expression, keeps that look of fondness and sympathy and annoyance. He doesn’t look at her. “Does that mean you’re not staying?”

She stares at him. Slowly, the confusion in her expression gives way to something that seems disappointed, and without saying anything, without even uncurling her fingers, she goes back to staring at the shallow crack in the ceiling.

A minute passes.

He sighs and turns and scoots back on the bed to sit against the headboard, both feet on the mattress. He looks at her now, with a gaze gentler than before. He raises a knee to his chest, wraps his arms around that leg, and rests his chin on his knee. And he watches again, for another ten seconds, until it seems like she won’t say or do anything at all. He pokes her leg with his other foot and punctuates it with, “Hey.”

It’s enough to at least make her shut her eyes and sigh. “I don’t know…”

In an instant, the gentleness in his gaze disappears. Instead, he silently, grandly, rolls his eyes. “Obviously that means you don’t want to so then… just don’t.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Why shouldn’t you just go?”

Her brow furrows a little. Her frown deepens a little. He seems to notice the subtle change in her expression because he rolls his eyes again—less grandly, this time—and says, “I’m just saying you can go to Vermillion and do this on your own if you want.”

She doesn’t respond this time.

“That’s what you’ve been doing already anyway.”

But she seems to soften at that. The muscles in her face relax a little, enough to be just noticeable.

And then, with a moment of thought it seems, he adds, “I think you should go.”

She opens her eyes. Stares at the air above her. “Yeah…”

Another minute passes. Another minute of her staring at nothing and him staring at her, his gaze still shifting between annoyance and worry and sympathy and fondness. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then frowns at nothing and pokes her with his foot again. “Good?”

“Trying to get rid of me?” she mutters.

“Trying to get you to stop being in a bad mood.” He frowns a little. Gives in, it seems, to the worry he must feel. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be pushy or anything… It’d just be nice if… if you didn’t feel like you had to worry about this sort of thing all the time.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and groans, maybe at what he said or at her sister or at both or at other things entirely. Maybe even at the lack of matcha in the kitchen or at her parents who are still talking in the living room. She turns onto her side, facing him but with her eyes still shut, and curls up. “I know… Sorry.”

It’s that soft, pitying look that he gives her again, but he stays quiet. He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he reaches for a pillow and lazily tosses it onto her side.

She whines at the impact and pouts and finally looks at him to say, “What was that for.”

“That was me forgiving you.”

“Seems like a rude way to forgive someone.”

He gives her a satisfied grin, not unlike the one he gave her when he threw the towel in her face. “Nah. I could’ve done worse. I could’ve shoved my feet in your face or something.”

She scrunches up her nose.

He notices.

He starts moving one foot toward her, but she immediately cries out, “Ew!” throws the pillow back at him, sits up, and scoots over to the corner of the bed, well away from him.

His laugh is bright and warm.

Silence falls between them. It’s a moment that she spends staring at the bedroom door with a smile trying to force itself into a frown, a moment that he spends staring and smiling softly at her. It’s not a long moment, only thirty seconds, and it settles between them in a seemingly comfortable way. A silence that neither of them seems willing to break until Naomi’s frown wins.

“So you’re going to Celadon tomorrow, right?” she asks, only turning to look at him halfway through her question, at the exact moment that the fondness in his expression evaporates in favor of something startled or confused or more alert. Like he was snapped out of his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah.” He looks away. Picks at the sheets. “The train’ll leave me in Celadon tomorrow afternoon and I start the day after so…”

She rolls her eyes. “Who _starts_ on a Friday…”

He shrugs, glances at her, and something flickers in his gaze before he looks away again. “I… told Giovanni that was the soonest I could make it so…” He sucks in a breath and looks up, but not at her. “I regret not lying,” he sighs.

She shakes her head, eyes looking none too happy and staring ahead at a dresser clear of books and trophies, lips curved just enough that she looks like she’s smirking wryly. “Boo…” She hangs her head back and looks at him, eyes wide and lips pulled into an exaggerated pout. “I can’t believe you’re abandoning me like this.”

Now he looks at her, gaze quiet and neutral for just a moment before slipping into something playfully apologetic. “Oh, forgive me, I had to get away from here as soon as I could.”

She snorts. She smiles. “Still feel awkward around my family?”

“I’ll _also_ never get used to your dad’s telepathy.”

Her gaze travels away from him and her posture straightens. “Mm. Weirdly nice to not be alone in feeing awkward around them at least…”

He looks away. “Yeah…” Then pauses. Looks at her again. Bites his lip like he’s thinking. “You gonna leave tomorrow too then?”

His words draw her attention, but only for a second. She looks away from him before he even finishes speaking, and she stays quiet for a moment afterward, staring at or through the tidy dresser. “I… I guess…” Stares at or through the floor. “No real reason not to, right…?”

He watches her carefully as she answers, as she keeps looking at the floor even after she’s finished. He watches with that pitying look again.

And then launches a pillow at her back.

She scoffs and turns to him looking insulted and annoyed and maybe just the slightest bit hurt, but if he notices, he doesn’t show it. He just grins at her. “Cool. Then we can grab breakfast, and you can walk me to the train station and not have to come back _here_ of all places after saying goodbye all depressingly. Good?”

Just like before, she rolls her eyes and fails to fight off her smile, small as it is. “Sure.”

“Just don’t miss me too much,” he says, softly enough to not seem entirely playful.

The response he gets is a pillow to the face.


	36. Chapter 36

You expect to see walls and strangers again the next time the light wakes you. But you see trees and grass and sunlight, and only your usual companions: the blue one, the brown one, and the girl. No one else.

Maybe that, the fact that it’s just the four of you again, is where the girl’s lonesomeness and that touch of guilt come from.

“Started off kinda late today,” she mutters. She kicks at the grass for a bit before pulling a blanket out of her bag and sloppily draping it over the ground. She plops down on top of it, picks at the fabric, and then the thought of food hits you: leaves, petals, berries if you can find them. You take off without a second thought.

You decide on the branches of a nearby tree occupied by a few birds. They chirp at you as you approach and settle yourself, but otherwise leave you alone. You sit and nibble on leaves, and think.

This place is different from home. It’s open and sunnier, and there is, of course, the perhaps now-constant presence of your teammates and the girl and the thoughts that aren’t yours. It isn’t anything alarming, not even the red light that seems to stop and start your thoughts and memories. It’s mostly all curious.

You watch the three of them on the ground: the girl tapping against that small white rectangle of hers, the brown one eating dried fruit off the blanket, and the blue one nibbling on the leaves of a nearby bush. They seem so… distant. From yourself and each other and maybe even themselves.

You think of change—of the girl, of the blue one, of where you are now and where you were earlier and where you were when you met them all. You think of the light and the girl’s thoughts, of things like home and family and departure. They connect in a way that you don’t quite follow, but you know they’re related.

Your thoughts wander, nebulous and difficult to pinpoint, until several minutes later the thought of returning comes to you, cutting through it all. You finish the leaf in your hands, grab a half-bloomed flower, and fly back to the girl, still sitting but looking all around. “Re—!” she starts, but she spots you coming toward her. “Oh.” You hover around her and consider her. Her head seems a comfortable perch, but the last time you sat there, there was discomfort. You float to the ground instead and land at her feet, beside the brown one lying still and breathing softly in the sunlight. “You a mind reader or something, Ren?”

Thoughts of thoughts. It’s hard to wrap your mind around it. You trill and just focus on eating your flower.

She pats your head, then runs her fingers over the brown one’s fur. There’s warmth in your chest. “Didn’t expect her to fall asleep. But she’s worked hard these past few days. Don’t you think, Ren?”

She expects a response, so you trill and chew.

“Hey, Kyou,” you hear, followed by a low warble and the click of one of those spheres. Redness on your left, and when you look, the brown one is gone. “Alright, we should get going, guys. Vermillion’s still some hours away.”

The blanket billows beneath you, and you’re left with no choice but to finish your flower and float up. That’s when you spot two strangers approaching, a boy and a girl in matching green. “Hey!” the boy calls.

There’s confusion, followed by the thought that they shouldn’t be here. Something about the time or the day, but you don’t press the matter.

He holds up one of those red-and-white spheres with nervousness and determination in his round face. It sits oddly on him. “O-one on one?”

The girl behind him rolls her eyes and smirks. “Smooth.”

“Shut up, Nancy…”

You tilt your head and turn back to your companions, to the girl for some sort of cue. She folds the blanket without looking at it, still staring at the two newcomers with a raised eyebrow. Something about it makes you trill with amusement. “Shouldn’t you two be in school…?” she asks.

“Uh—”

The other girl scoffs. “Early dismissal.”

Something seems unbelievable, and you think you see that on the girl’s face. There’s something different about her smile as she packs the blanket away. “Sure… Just one?”

“Unless you wanna up the ante?” the other girl asks.

“I can’t bet more than five hundred, that’s all I’ve got,” the boy hisses.

A click and flash of white makes you turn to the newcomers again, and when the light clears, it’s there—small and blue and round, warbling the way the blue one does. You have to look between the two to confirm that, yes, there are two of them, but they’re not the same being. Your blue companion looks puzzled.

Wind, buzzing nerves and thoughts, the thrum of movement. “Ren, do you wanna take this?” the girl asks you, and you easily take your place opposite the newcomers.

It’s a simple spar. The little blue one scuttles on stubby legs to try to make up some of the vertical distance between you. But it’s easy to flit around bubbles and streams of water, easy to interrupt his strikes with gusts of wind.

He still hasn’t landed a single hit on you by the time the girl calls, “Alright, finish up with Confusion!”

Energy buzzes in your mind the way the girl’s thoughts do. It shimmers around the little blue one’s body, lifts him just a little off the ground, and digs into thoughts and senses and shifts them—where the grass is, where the sky is, what he feels, and where he is, you watch as his face contorts and feel his mind resist.

He cries out, and you drop him.

He warbles quietly, nervously, just like your blue companion—who you turn to look at to make sure _he_ isn’t the one making anxious noises. And he isn’t, but he watches with a matching amount of concern.

The boy groans, and the other girl laughs. “Five hundred, pay up, Ricky!” she says.

You trill with laughter, and the girl giggles too.


	37. Chapter 37

There are a few hours of flying past greenery and ponds and dirt paths. You glimpse wiry creatures with yellow bells for heads dancing through the grass, beige felines chasing after them, and things pink and slow and always sleepy. You have to stifle a yawn every time you look their way, toward the ponds. There are a few people around, older than the two strangers you came across earlier and not as confrontational. If any of them glance your way, they leave the three of you alone.

The sun isn’t far from setting by the time wide, orange blocks begin to emerge from the horizon, slowly growing taller and larger as you make your way toward them. The sight of the buildings makes the girl sigh with relief, and with her breath comes the realization that you’re exhausted as well.

“So close but so far,” the girl mutters. Your sore wings agree. The blue one quietly warbles somewhere below and behind you.

The closer you get to the buildings, the more something like familiarity builds inside you. But by the time you reach the buildings and the streets, flying past sun-bleached buildings and over gray roads, that familiarity leaves. This place is strange to you for all that it is—for its buildings and people and lack of green—and strange to the girl for reasons that you can’t place. To her, it just feels different, and it makes you think of home.

The blue one almost gets lost twice on your way to the girl’s destination, so she pulls out those red and white spheres and points one to each of you with an apologetic smile. “At least until I can find the Center,” she says.

Then light. And nothing. Like you closed your eyes for a moment.

And when the world comes back to you, it finds you in white, in warmth, a sunset-orange sky, and an expanse of water that ripples before you. It smells of salt.

You trill and take in what you can as quickly as you can, latching on to the girl’s presence when you find it, small and guilty, in your mind.

She’s behind you, seated on something wide and wooden, smiling as she pats the blue one’s head. The brown one isn’t here. “I uh… thought it might be nice to explore the docks together?” She turns to an array of stalls behind her, surrounded by others and their creatures. Excitement rings in your head, but behind that, still, is guilt. The blue one warbles curiously. “There’s a little market over there that I thought would be nice to check out in a bit.” She sighs. “Kenneth said I shouldn’t feel bad about wanting to take my time but, I kinda do…”

Five beats of your wings, and then she takes a breath, stretches, and stands. She smiles at you and pats your head before walking toward the stalls. “Come on.”

You and the blue one follow closely behind, you hovering just behind her head and the blue one holding tight to her leg. The path is maybe wide enough for three of your kind to stand wingtip to wingtip, but it’s crowded enough to feel much narrower than that. More than once do the girl and the blue one need to weave around another group or stop themselves short so they don’t bump into anyone.

The stalls that line the path are filled with things of all kinds and colors: fabrics in bright reds and golds, glimmering blue and green stones hung on display or wrapped around the necks and wrists of others, glossy black-and-white images of things or places you can’t discern, vibrant figurines of various creatures, and so many other objects that you can’t quite catch. Every flash of color draws your attention, and there’s too much to look at.

There’s one stall that grabs you more than any of the others. Hung on its walls are cloths of so many shapes and sizes, laid out from red to orange to yellow, green, blue, purple, and pink. A woman, certainly taller than the girl, adjusts the clothing while a bird with red and yellow tail feathers watches her. On the counter, a yellow rodent plucks at the strings of a small wooden instrument.

It’s intriguing. You fly over to them without much thought, not even when the girl says, “Ren? Hey, where are you going?”

You trill at the color and the fabric, at the yellow one and the red-and-yellow one who look up at you with friendliness and confusion respectively. The woman laughs softly. “Are you here to buy some of my stuff too?” she asks you.

“Ren,” the girl says behind you. You feel the urge to shrink away, but you just tilt your head at the woman. “Sorry, I hope he wasn’t bothering you.”

“Not at all! And hey, who am I to complain about a Pokémon bringing someone over to my stall?” The instrument rings out, high-pitched but rich, and you look over to it. The yellow one plucks the strings absentmindedly, staring up at you. He looks just like the rodents you would see (and avoid) back home. You wonder how he got here. If maybe this woman brought her along the same way the girl did to you.

It’s a good thing, you think. That you’ve both made it all the way out here. The girl laughs softly, and you can’t help the thought that maybe she’s agreeing with you. “I guess it could be good for business, huh.”

“Mmhmm! If nothing else,” the woman says as she grabs something small, thin, and rectangular from beside the yellow one, “it’s good for handing out business cards.” She hands it over, and you turn back to the girl as she takes it.

“Sherri…” the girl reads, just as another note rings out. The girl’s expression lights up, and something according fills your chest, something bright and impressed. “Oh, you have a storefront? A full-fledged business and all? I mean, not that this doesn’t count but—”

The woman laughs. “A full-fledged business, yep. It’s pretty small, though, since it’s just me, Preston and Casey here, and my girlfriend.”

The girl’s eyes go wide, and you follow her gaze to see that she’s finally looking at the brightly colored clothing that drew you to this place to being with. “Did you and your girlfriend sew all of these?”

“Nope, just me! True’s not very good with a sewing machine.”

It’s more than just a feeling of being impressed now. That feeling in your chest turns into admiration, but beneath it is something just a little cold. You don’t hear it in the girl’s voice as she says, “Wow…” so you look to her again, even though you know you won’t find an explanation of her thoughts in her expression. She’s still looking at one of the things hung on the wall, something flowy in purple, white, gray, and black. “Looks like a lot of work and dedication.”

“A labor of love, for sure. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The coldness grows. It doesn’t show on her face as she rifles through a few of the dresses. She picks one up and hands it to the woman, still smiling, and it’s frustrating but you don’t think there’s anything you can do about it. “I think I’ll take this.”

They have some sort of brief exchange that you spend studying the girl’s face, but nothing gives away the coldness. You know nothing will give it away, but you still search, at least until the woman hands her a bag and brightly says, “Thank you!”

Some of the coldness leaves, or is pushed away, and still the girl smiles. “Thank _you_. And… I hope things go well for you. Business-wise and all.”

“Oh, thanks!”

The girl waves goodbye, turns, and walks away, calling for you and the blue one to follow. You linger for a moment longer, giving one last look to all the differently-colored fabrics and to the yellow one and his instrument, and then follow.

The girl looks up at you when you reach her side. “May as well get stuff to remember the places we visit, right? Souvenirs,” she says with a shrug. “We _are_ traveling. Plus…” But she doesn’t finish the thought. You have to pick out of your mind instead, and it rings quietly with awe and guilty reluctance.


	38. Chapter 38

The gasp alone is enough to make you want to bury yourself. The “No way!” that follows is enough to make your feet start digging beneath you again because there’s no reason to be here, you shouldn’t have even come up to the surface.

“Ren!” a girl shouts, and the sound echoes in the cave and you start to dig. “Ren, Stun Spore, quick!”

You know that sound. That intonation.

You have to leave _now_.

There’s dirt beneath your claws, climbing around your body, but the wind shifts overhead and the air smells different. Sharp and foul, up your nose and into your throat and you cough and—

Your legs won’t move.

You turn your eyes up, but you can’t see much besides the silhouette—large, round, hovering above you, red, wrong eyes.

And then a thud and light.

And nothing.

When you wake again, there is too much light, intense and blinding, but there is dirt beneath your feet—warmer than you’re used to but familiar and grounding all the same. Your claws hold fast to it, no longer hindered by whatever that red-eyed shadow did to you just a moment ago, wherever that thing is now.

“Holy shit,” the girl says. You look up at her, squinting against the light. You can make out something dark atop her head and something green on her body, and you can tell that there is a tree behind her casting its measly shade on you both. It doesn’t matter to you that you can’t see much else. You don’t need to know what she looks like to know you don’t like her. “Your nose is _actually_ blue…”

She extends an arm toward you and— Should you scratch or skitter back? You go for both, sort of. You scamper back on quick legs, save for one that reaches out, brandishing small, sharp claws to keep her from getting any closer. She shouldn’t be allowed to get close to you. She shouldn’t have been allowed to bring you out here to begin with.

You could run, but where to? You don’t know how to get home from here.

The show of your claws is, thankfully, enough to get her to pull away. “Oh,” she says. Her head is still pointed at you, you think. She might still be looking at you. The two shadows in her face, those could be her eyes. Do you hold eye contact with her? Challenge her? Dare her to try that again so that she’ll know for sure that she made a mistake?

You stare straight into the shadows on her face. You dare her. But nothing seems to change. There’s no nervousness, neither on her part or yours. In fact, all you can sense is confusion.

She moves.

You start and move to keep eye contact with her. It’s enough to make her hesitate (you can take pride in that, at least), but she continues to move anyway and pulls out something small and red. Consults it. “Do you actually eat dirt…?” she mutters.

Food.

If nothing else, you could use some food right now.

You till the soil directly beneath you, feel the grass brush against your legs, the fragile roots snap as you rip them out of the dirt. You never pull your gaze away from the shadows on the girl’s face. You sink into the ground (and you could go there, stay there, away from the sun and this girl and go back to a place kind of like home but… Why does it feel impossible to do that?), pull soil into your mouth, and watch.

She moves again.

You hop up, show your claws again, but, “Hey—yeah, okay, I think it’s just gonna be me and you eating today if you’re gonna keep doing that…” she says.

She keeps moving, slowly, shadowed eyes sometimes looking back to you, sometimes looking away and into some brown lump beside her. From that lump, she pulls out a container and opens it. Clicks two somethings long and slender in her hand. Uses them to lift something from the container to her face.

The smell reminds you of your food. You go back to your spot in the dirt, and eat, and watch.

For a long moment, there is quiet. The soft rustle of soil and grass shifting around you. The leaves overhead moving in the breeze. You hear the cries of other creatures in the distance, and they sound just like the ones you would hear from home, at the mouth of the cave. Maybe home isn’t too far from here, but it feels pointless to entertain the idea.

Something sounds—ringing, sharp, cutting the air unlike anything you’ve ever heard, and you jump and bare a claw again because it’s coming from the girl or from right next to her, it has to be her—

It stops. “You’re just like Mika,” she mutters, and then she holds something small and white to her head. “Hey, Kenneth.” A pause. You don’t go back to your meal. You watch, carefully, claws at the ready.

“About?” she says. “Oh, actually, hold on, I’m eating, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” She shifts and puts the white thing down and—

"—not sure I wanna talk about this on speaker..." you hear. Something that sounds like her, but you don’t see any other person.

"It’s just me,” she says. “I’m sitting on Route 11, there's no one else around. What, is it something really personal?"

The other voice sighs, and still there is no one else. "No, not really, just... embarrassing," it says. Perhaps the white thing.

The girl picks the thing up and places it on her lap, behind the container and out of your view. The things in her hand click again and, food, right. "Oh?" It’s almost kind of silly, how you keep forgetting about your meal. You settle yourself in the dirt again to eat and watch, and listen.

"Tch, don't 'oh' me, this is not me handing over receipts, okay."

The girl hums. And you decide that, no, it wasn’t _almost_ silly that you kept forgetting about your food. It definitely _was_ silly. "Wha’ happen’?"

"I, um." That mysterious sigh comes through again, from behind the container on her lap. "I have once again made an enormous fool of myself in front of someone cute."

"Oh gods."

"Sh-shut up, okay, look, he was—” the voice starts, and something is funny. Is it the food thing again? It must be, you don’t know what else it could be. “He was really cute and I just kinda stared at him too long while he was talking to Giovanni and I—" Another sigh, and no, maybe it’s not the food thing, maybe it’s this girl or this voice, the nonsense of their words and the fact that you’re out here, _outside_ , because of her. That must be it, that must be what’s kind of funny. "I didn't see the bag on the floor, and I tripped, and he _definitely saw_ so _I'm_ never fucking talking to him and I just— He was really cute," he whines.

"Doesn' this a’ways happen?" she asks, in a tone that sounds like it could match the fondness and the silliness in your head.

"Look, okay, it's my not fault that I fall for every pretty person I see, okay, my heart is—"

"Your heart is weak, yes, I know, you say it all the time.” Silly, absolutely silly.

The other voice groans.

"I mean, on the bright side, it's not like you _were_ gonna say anything to him. You never have the balls to."

There’s silence for a moment, long enough that you forget about the silliness and remember what’s really going on here. Long enough that you remember to keep your claws at the ready again. "I know..."

"In all seriousness though,” the girl says, and those things in her hand click together. You remind yourself that there’s absolutely nothing silly about her or the fact that you’re no longer home. “It'd be nice to see you... not pining after someone all the time, I guess? Like with Bill or that Green girl. What was her name again?"

"Are you ever going to let go of the fact that I never found out."

The girl laughs softly and, no, maybe something _is_ silly about it after all, even though it shouldn’t be and there’s no reason for it to be, and there’s also no reason for you to be so undecided about it. "Sorry." As far as you think, anyway. "Can I ask, though... Just because, I don't know, something seemed a little off or something the other day, I guess, but... is that... still a thing? With Bill?"

A pause, and maybe there’s something a little scary about it all. Not so much about the silliness, but about the girl and where you are and where you might never go back again. "It doesn't matter," the voice mutters.

"That's not really an answer," the girl says. And then hastily, maybe correctively, like perhaps you could undo what happened and go back home, "I mean, you don't—you don't _have_ to answer, I just...”

The other voice breathes and huffs and says, "I... I guess, a little, I dunno.” You’re tired. Sad. “Again, it's not like it matters 'cause he's in love with his best friend and he's four years older than me and he's a lot smarter than me so..."

You want to go home. 

"Sorry..." the girl says.

For a moment, there is nothing. Just the grass and the trees still stirring. The clicking in the girl’s hand. You go back to eating, but there’s little point in watching anymore. Little point in baring claws. "Anyway,” the voice says. There’s little point in trying to figure out where the voice comes from, too. “Back to the cute college guy, that I'm never going to speak to because I'm never going to show my face around him again."

You try to think about other things. Change the topic of your thoughts. There’s little to go back to but… "Actually, how's the ‘internship’ going so far?” the girl asks, and you figure there must be something around here worth being curious about. “I know it's only been like two days, but."

It’s too bright to look around, but your surroundings are all relatively new to you. You knew of the outside before, had glimpsed it from within your home. It was all one bright ball of white and, as the sun went down, dark green. It’s much warmer here, too. The air feels different. Crisper. Not unpleasant. "It's going alright. Pretty boring stuff that mostly amounts to reading and paperwork, but it's something for a future resume, I guess."

"That's all Fuji's had you do? Or, wait, you mentioned Giovanni the other day?"

"Yeah,” the voice says, and it’s all a little confusing. The not-unpleasantness of this all. You’re not happy, no, far from it, and should the girl reach for you again, you will be ready to draw blood if that’s what it takes to show her— “Fuji and Blaine headed out a few days ago to the Seviis for their project or whatever. So Giovanni's the one giving me the grunt work. Wouldn't tell me why exactly they left or where specifically they're going, but I'm not gonna push. He's kinda intimidating anyway..."

No. Something tells you attacking won’t change anything. "Yeah..."

You observe again, with the intent to brush off any _why’s_ that come to mind; you know entertaining them will do nothing. “Mm... But yeah, that's what's going on in my boring, embarrassing corner of the world. Anything you have to share?"

There’s something strangely exciting about it.

"As a matter of fact I do! Guess what I caught!"

About observance, you think.

"A Dugtrio?"

Enough to make your nerves buzz.

"Nope!"

You dig a little deeper into the ground, clumps of soil and small rocks and shredded grass roots catching behind your claws. It’s easier to dig here than it was back home.

"A Diglett."

It’s almost comfortable.

"Yep!"

All of this is almost exciting.

"...Congrats?"

The not-knowing of what will happen next.

"No, ask me why I'm excited about the Diglett I caught!"

Of where you are.

"...Okay, why are you excited about the Diglett you caught?"

Of what will happen next.

"Her nose is _blue_!"

Of what the girl will be like.

"Wait, like a shiny?"

But you pause.

"Yeah!" she squeaks.

You think.

"Really?!" the voice says, and you want to laugh at yourself.

" _Yeah_!" she squeaks again.

"What?"

"I know!"

"That's..."

Their words bounce between your ears. You don’t know what they mean. You don’t care what they mean. Or, rather, you know that the fact that you’re hearing them means you’re stuck here.

"I'm gonna send you a picture later, oh man. I don't think she likes me very much, though," the girl says, and you look at her, and she looks at you, and you know you decided there would be no point to it but the urge to brandish your claws comes back to you.

"You said you're just out on 11, right? She's probably not happy about being out in the sun and all."

"Yeah, I should just get her some sunglasses," she scoffs.

Luckily for her, you think, you decide not to.


	39. Chapter 39

You let her—you don’t know why, but you let her put something over your eyes the next time she brings you out into the sun. It fits tight around your head and you try to go for her hands with your claws, but the dimness makes you hesitate.

Whatever it is that she makes you wear, it darkens everything. It pulls at the flesh around your eyes, and you can feel the line of pressure that rings your head, but you can _see_. You don’t need to squint to make out her silhouette in the sunlight, or the blurry wave of grass or the shadows of trees in the distance. It’s all muted, more navy than anything else, but it doesn’t all blend together.

It reminds you a little of home.

The girl stands back and laughs, “I have to send Kenneth a picture,” and you feel like you have to agree with whatever she said. This is happy.

She squats down in front of you and holds that was-white-is-now-navy thing—the one that you think was talking the last time you were out here—in front of her face. It clicks, and she laughs, and you almost feel like laughing too. “I cannot believe tinted, dirt-resistant Diglett goggles are actually a thing in Vermillion…”

She puts the thing away, and she looks straight at you. The shadows on her face are darker now, bluer now, but you can still tell where her eyes are. You can still tell that she’s meeting your gaze exactly. It must be a challenge, but something—something that you can’t place or identify, some gut feeling—tells you it isn’t. You don’t bare your claws. Not yet, at least.

“I think I’m gonna call you Aya,” she says. She tilts her head and says, “Now I just gotta figure out how to teach you that, you’re um… Diglett aren’t exactly known for being intelligent…”

You ponder something you’ve never really thought of before, something so strange to you that, for a split moment, it’s almost like the thought was given to you.

What you think of is yourself, in a way that you’ve never considered before. As more than just your ability to tunnel, as more than the soil you eat or the cave that was once your home. As more than something that fit in with the others in your home who ate and tunneled as you did.

The thought considers yourself as a collection of other thoughts, and feelings, and abstractions that you don’t understand.

It’s… scary. Enough to make you shrink under the girl’s gaze, enough to make you want—to make you _need_ something to latch on to.

Grass rustles as the girl shuffles backward, and you flinch and catch yourself wanting to step toward and away from her.

“Aya,” she says, and the messy nonsense of selfhood comes back, the sort of noise that seems placed there, forced there, that doesn’t belong in your thoughts but it’s there now, loud and desperate for… for _something_ , for something to hold on to—

The girl rustles the grass and says, “Aya, come here,” and you catch yourself wanting to step forward, feeling like you’re supposed to step forward, like the sounds she makes are supposed to hold on to that unpleasant wedge that is this idea of _you_ that doesn’t belong in your head, that doesn’t work in your head and doesn’t work for you.

“Aya,” she says again, and the thought of yourself tumbles through your head, like it wants to get to her. Like it wants to be with her. Like it’s hers to begin with. (And you wouldn’t be surprised if it were; this “selfhood” was never a thought you had before.) Maybe it’s that—that possibility that the noise belongs to her—that makes your legs twitch. Maybe that’s why you inch toward her, and you catch yourself off guard.

“Oh,” she says.

She shuffles back a little and rustles the grass again and, “Aya,” and you let the accompanying thought carry you forward.

You take slow, careful steps, never once looking away from her shadowed eyes, never once forgetting that the noise in your head could be her fault (not to mention that it’s her fault you’re here to begin with). You keep in mind your claws and that wrongness, that noise that keeps tumbling and tugging you toward her. One step forward. Then another. And another.

Where the excitement comes from, you don’t know. It’s small, somewhere in the pit of your stomach, hidden beneath the noise and the nonsense, but once you reach the girl’s hand, it bursts. You burrow into the dirt in a panic and the girl falls back and you think, you remember that maybe you could leave, maybe you could dig your way back to a place like home—but it’s impossible. And the fact that it feels that way, like you _can’t_ leave, makes you dig deeper in frustration, until the grass starts to poke its way into your nostrils.

Everything kind of stops then.

You breathe.

When she says, “Aya?” the noise returns, but it at least doesn’t feel as bad as before. It even calms itself when you look at her.

She shifts and brings her face closer, enough so that you can see the shadows of a nose and a mouth too. “You okay, Aya…?”

You don’t move, but some of the tension in your muscles leaves, just enough that you can feel yourself relaxing. You didn’t even notice you were tense in the first place.

She slowly places a hand in front of you, rests it in a tuft of grass a few blades shy of your nose. You don’t know what it is about the gesture, but maybe there’s no point in trying to scare her off.

So when she brings her hand closer to you and rubs the back of her hand against your cheek, you don’t attack her. You don’t tense. You don’t back away. For some reason.

She laughs softly. “Maybe you won’t hate me after all.”


	40. Chapter 40

She teaches you some things that day. It’s really the noise in your head that makes you cooperate.

She doesn’t teach you actions, but there’s something about certain sounds she makes— _scratch_ , _dig_ , _magnitude_ —that compel you to move, to swipe your claws against the bark of a tree, to burrow underground and follow your ears to the spot where she tosses a rock, or to shake the soil around you and crack it open to trap another tossed rock or, once you’re both more comfortable, violet things that slither in the grass.

After a while, after you’ve burrowed up into the undersides of more serpents than you can count, you’ve had enough. Rather than follow the girl’s footsteps, you make your way back into the shade of a tree, and though her calls of, “Aya!” start the clamor in your head again and demand your attention, you ignore her.

You settle in the shade for a moment, blades of grass tickling your nose, and contemplate how much you want to eat. She comes up to you while you’re still thinking (you ate not too long ago but…). While you’re wary of her approach, you stay relaxed for the most part.

She sits beside you with a groan. “Well,” she huffs, “maybe if you’re feeling worn out now you’d be fine with meeting the team?”

Others. That thing that attacked you in your home before the girl took you. Maybe others just like it. You tense. You think of the quiet of home, the low rumble in the dirt caused by your kin moving throughout the caves, minding their own business, away from you. You miss the quiet. The solitude. The peace that came with being left alone but not being _entirely_ alone.

So you bare your claws when light flashes around you.

When the dimness comes back, you see the shapes of three others. Two of them look round and fuzzy but the other, the other hovers in the air, wings flapping, and you feel your legs freeze again but you push yourself away from it anyway, claws at the ready should you need them.

Your thoughts pause, caught somewhere between panic, anger, worry, and regret. “I should’ve done that one by one…” the girl says.

Your eyes don’t leave the one in the air, and his eyes—large and navy-tinted-red—don’t seem to leave you either. As far as you can tell, he doesn’t respond to you at all. Doesn’t flap his wings any harder, doesn’t move closer or farther away from you, and the girl still hasn’t said anything, not the way she did when she took you from your home. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe he won’t attack you. But you’re ready nonetheless.

“Uh, Ren, why don’t you go over there? Grab a snack, pick on some Ekans or something… I think Aya remembers you…”

He chirrs and moves and you step forward to meet him, avoid him, land the first hit—but he flies away. He doesn’t attack.

You follow his shrinking silhouette for as long as you can, until he disappears into the haze of a tree.

“Okay, now please just don’t attack the other two…”

You keep a careful eye on the tree; he could fly out at any minute and catch you off-guard. But as the seconds pass and you catch no sign of him, you let your attention drift, just a little, just enough to regard the other two that appeared with him.

They’re both taller than you, as if knowing that they’re with that flying shadow weren’t enough to keep you on edge. They don’t exactly loom over you, but they’re close enough that you feel like you’re sitting in their shadows. You back away from them, carefully, watching them closely, watching the blue shape on your left tilt his head at you and warble, watching the darker fuzz ball on your right sweep her tail across the grass.

She’s not fond of you, you can tell. The way she holds herself, the energy she gives off— She hasn’t attacked you yet, but you know she’s no ally of yours.

“Mika,” the girl says, and the fuzz ball shifts, turns, stops sweeping her tail. The tension dissipates immediately, but you don’t look away from her. “Be nice, that’s our new teammate, Aya.”

The fuzz ball looks to you now, tiny little shadows in her face locking onto your eyes, tail no longer sweeping over the grass. The other one warbles and you glance his way, but Fuzz Ball moves forward and you look to her and jump back and, your claws, you remember them—

The girl’s hand comes down in front of Fuzz Ball and nudges her back. “Okay, that might be enough, um. Mika, Kyou, how about we go train right over there for bit? I should be able to watch Aya from there. We’ll let her stay here and rest.”

You don’t pull your gaze away from Fuzz Ball even as you see the girl move at the edge of your vision. The blue one follows her, and eventually Fuzz Ball does too, after staring you down for a moment. Even when she turns her back to you, you don’t look away.

You watch as they chase down other silhouettes in the grass, ones too small and blurry for you to identify. The girl calls things out with that tone she used back home, but none of it is directed at you. At this distance, you can’t even tell if she looks your way again. So after a few minutes of this, of watching and listening to them keep all their attention on whatever is out there in the grass, you settle down, and you relax. At least for now, they’re leaving you alone.

Good.


	41. Chapter 41

They don’t leave you alone for the following few days. You don’t know how long it is exactly, because every time that red light puts you to sleep, you wake somewhere else, and something just _feels_ different. Like you missed the moon that night.

For those few days, they hardly leave you alone. It’s especially true for the girl, who uses up so much of your time running you through those same attacks, targeting those same slithering enemies in the grass, over and over like a drill. You listen, for reasons you can’t place or justify (and it leaves you restless, makes you need to run, whenever you try to think about it). You cooperate. At least until her presence and that of the other three creatures, either sitting idly by or moving at the girl’s command, gets so pressing that you just stop.

It’s in those moments, when they’ve all been around you too long (especially that flying shadow and his red eyes, you still can’t look his way or know he’s around without tensing, without watching his every move so he can’t sneak up on you), that you feel the need to lash out at them, to push them away, to keep them away. You haven’t lashed out yet though (unfortunately); the girl always decides too soon to go elsewhere with the others.

Today is different.

Today, when you come to, the other creatures aren’t around. You don’t even spot the girl when your vision comes to you, tinted navy and dimmed by the thing over your eyes. Your surroundings aren’t the same spread of green and shadowy trees that it usually is. They are enclosed, brown, and ringed by others like the girl. One silhouette stands in the distance before you. Several others sit far off on the sides.

You flex your claws. Gone is the warm, soft dirt. In its place is cold stone as tough as the walls of your cave. The kind you can’t cut through. The kind you can only crack open on a lucky day, like that one time you wandered into the path of something dangerous. There might be something dangerous here too. There must be.

You can feel it.

“Damn, honestly I was hoping you’d do something a little more clever, Naomi,” says a voice in front of you, low, gruff. Irritating. You scratch at the floor. You could land a good hit on whoever made that sound, right? The blurry shape in the distance? It had to be him. He’s not _that_ far away, you could close in on him easily enough.

“She’s my best bet for a one-on-one fight,” the girl says, behind you, but you don’t turn to look at her. She may be a problem, but this newcomer strikes you as a lot worse, and really it wouldn’t be _that_ hard to attack him.

The newcomer moves and—light, bright enough that even in the dim pressed over your eyes, you have to look away. You hear crackling before you dare to look back.

In front of you—almost _right_ in front of you, how did this thing get so close?—is something at least three times your height, something orange, yellow, sparking, and angry.

He doesn’t scare you.

“Aya, Magnitude, quick!”

“Benny, Double Team!”

He moves before you can lift a leg. It seems instant. He’s there one moment, then gone in a blink, so suddenly that you stumble back and have to find him again. You follow him with your eyes as he runs to your side, behind you, back around, in circles over and over until there are two, three, four of him and you can’t hit them all at once, but you try anyway.

You slam your forelegs into the rock, and it splits (easily, much more easily than the rock back home), a jagged crack running from your feet to the enemy in front of you, just on your left. The ground bursts open at his feet and—

He vanishes.

“Quick Attack!”

Pattering on your right, and before you can even turn, pain erupts in your side. Your body curls back around whatever slammed into you, flies forward, goes skidding, rolling, until somehow your claws find the ground again, slipping and scraping stone. You stumble, but you’re upright now, you can see now, the world isn’t spinning around you in a blue blur.

There are only three of him now.

Should you charge them? Any of them? All of them? You should. You could. Your claws clack against the stone as you ready yourself to run, but you hear, “Aya!” and you can’t find it in you to move. Why?

The three of them look identical. The same orange and yellow blur. You can’t pick out the fakes just by looking at them. But they pace. They start to circle you. And something about them seems off. They look the same, but they don’t _feel_ the same.

It’s only when they start to get closer that you realize what it is. There’s only one set of footsteps, and it’s coming from your left.

You run for it.

“Quick Attack!” again, and “ _Aya_ , Magnitude!” again but this time it’s impatient, angry, worried and you want to ignore the feeling in your head, the one telling you to stop and obey. You’d rather slash him across the face, trip him up, pull the ground out from under him but, no, you can’t. You can’t ignore it, not with the way your thoughts are pulling you back, with that noise in your head again. You skid to a stop and slam your feet into the ground and—

There’s a crack below you, and pain in your chest, and something squeals right in front of you. You skid back, fall over. Everything aches and spins. But at least it’s not any blurrier than usual.

“Aya?” the girl calls.

Noise.

You ignore it for now, while you can. You turn your head to look for those orange and yellow shapes, but there’s only one, low to the ground and no longer standing. Not even really moving. Splayed out?

The voice from earlier lets out a long breath. “Alright. That’s good enough for a third badge. Benny, you okay?”

He moves now. Sits up and whines.

“Alright, don’t be a baby about it, you did fine.”

A sharp, rolling noise fills the air, like stones clattering and spilling. A sign to dig and run even though this is no cave. You start and turn and you see the silhouettes that have been sitting there on the side all this time. And you realize the sound is coming from them. Not from a cave in.

The sound of the girl’s footsteps is oddly grounding. Familiar in a less threatening way.

She squats down in front of you, and she doesn’t reach for you. Good. “Not bad, Aya. I’m glad— Um, well. Thanks for listening to me at the end there.” Maybe she’s not so bad after all.

Another set of footsteps approaches, heavy and loud, and you know without looking that they belong to that other voice. Just as the girl stands up, something urges you to properly get on your feet. The same something that leaves you itching to lash out again despite the ache in your body.

He stops not too far away from you, and he towers over you. Some mountain of green and brown that reminds you of the place you’ve been these last few days, ever since you were taken from home. Is he intimidating? He’s a lot larger than you so, yes, unfortunately, he is. But there’s more to it than just his size.

“Not gonna lie, I was hoping for something a little more impressive from you,” he says.

You could slash his legs with ease from here. It would only take a few forward steps. A clean swipe of your claws.

“I mean, I got the badge, right?” the girl says, her voice low and quiet enough that you almost go for it.

He grunts. “Yeah, you did. Here.”

“Thanks…”

“Where you going for your next two badges?”

“Celadon, then Fuchsia.”

He laughs. The sound he makes is deep, brief, like a boulder meeting the ground. It makes you tense again. Makes you want to run away, as cowardly and inexplicable as that feels. “Koga for your fifth badge? That’s when shit starts getting tough. And he’s definitely not letting _you_ off easy.” He leans forward and whispers, “You might wanna be a little more creative when that time comes.”

Intimidating or not, though, you can slash him. You _should_ slash him, regardless of the feeling in your head that asks you to know your place and stay put. “Noted…”

You still don’t know why you listen to it.


	42. Chapter 42

The next time you wake, it isn’t anywhere green (again) or brown, but it _is_ someplace enclosed. Some place where the floor, some navy-tinted beige color, plush and just a little scratchy, dips slightly beneath your weight. What even is it? It feels like nothing like dirt or grass. You poke at it with your claws, start raking them back to try to dig it up—

“Aya, no no!”

The girl comes close. Too close. You jump back and raise a claw, but… She doesn’t reach for you. Wasn’t reaching for you at all, in fact. Just crouching close to you.

“Let’s um… Not rip up the carpet, okay?”

You stare down the shadows in her face.

“Please.”

She stands and moves over to something white and twice your height, something that creaks and dips when she sits on it. It must be plush too, like the floor.

The girl huffs and throws herself back, her entire upper body no longer in your line of sight, and there’s a warble behind you.

You turn around and find those blue and fuzzy and red-eyed shapes beside you again. You’re starting to get used to seeing them. Unfortunately. Even Red Eyes.

Rustling behind you, where the girl is, and by the time you glance over, she’s sitting on the floor and looking forward, you think. Toward the other three. She spends long enough just sitting there, barely even moving, that you turn back to watch Red Eyes because, right, there’s no sense in keeping your back turned to him.

“I wish home felt like home…” the girl mutters.

You remember your cave. Red Eyes hovering above you, and paralyzed legs. That light.

“‘Oh, Naomi, are you coming home before you go to Celadon?’ ‘No, Mom, I’m gonna stay in Vermillion to be a tourist a little bit longer and _definitely_ not stay in the Saffron Center tonight just ‘cause I’d rather not be home, nope nope.’” She huffs.

Somehow the suspicion drains out of you. You’re not angry anymore, not bitter. Just… sad. You settle yourself on the ground, but you don’t look away from Red Eyes. Not fully, anyway. Your point of focus is just to his left, but he’s still in your line of sight.

He starts to move, though. At the same time that you hear one of the others’ footsteps, Red Eyes flutters up and flies closer, and you start and ready your claws. But he continues right past you and lands on the tall white thing, right beside the girl’s head. You catch Fuzz Ball moving over to the girl’s side, looking like she’s sniffing or nuzzling her. And then the blue shape moves over to her other side and just sits close.

It’s sweet. For some reason.

The girl pats each of their heads. “Oh… Thanks,” she whispers. Something longing prods at you, small and twisting in your gut.

That ringing noise starts again. You’ve heard it many times over the past few days, but it sounded briefer, quieter, and less annoying. Now, it trills and trills, coming from that slip of navy-white now in the girl’s hand. You snort. Move. Your claws catch in the floor. The thing needs to shut up, and you could run over, knock the thing out of her hand, and rip into it. But something about it scares you.

Finally, it stops. The girl holds the rectangle in front of her face and says, “Hey, Bree.”

“Hey!” says the rectangle, loud and grating to your ears. “Aw, hi Ren!” Red Eyes twitches, but otherwise doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t move from his spot next to the girl’s head. “Just talked with Mom, she said you got your badge?”

“Yeah. Diglett make pretty quick work of him.” Fuzz Ball perks up, the girl pats her head, and something isn’t quite right. Something churns in your gut and makes your muscles itch, something that feels embarrassing and insulting for some bizarre reason. “Maybe I could’ve beaten him with Mika but…”

“Surge is too much of a softie honestly. But, did any of the stuff I told you help out?”

Your heart thuds. “Oh. Yeah! Tons.” Keeps thudding, and quickens in the thick second of silence that follows.

“Great! I, uh. Honestly I was little worried about it.”

“About what?”

“Like… maybe I tried to help too much? I dunno, I thought about what Kenneth said.”

“Oh… No, it’s fine…” Still thudding and thudding. It’s annoying. You don’t even know what it is that’s making you feel so… nervous? “I mean— Well. It would’ve been nice to evolve Kyou myself, I guess…"

“Ah. Right. Sorry, I just… thought maybe you needed some help since, well, two badges in, most trainers have evolved starters by then, you know?”

Not nervous. Angry? “I know. I just wasn’t battling with him ‘cause I thought he could use the break after Brock, and I wasn’t planning on using him in any big battles anyway.”

“Did something happen with Brock?”

No, not angry. Sad, maybe? “No, he just got scared…”

“Ah.” It’s tiring. You settle yourself on the floor, but you keep watching them. The girl and Red Eyes, mostly. "Well, training aside, are you doing alright, traveling and all? Mom said you’re going to Celadon, tomorrow, right?”

The knot in your gut eases, though. Like taking the weight off your feet makes this (whatever this is) all the more bearable. Not quite happy, but better. “Yeah. Might spend a while there. Hang out with Kenneth.”

“Oh, yeah. I bet it’s nice that you guys have gotten to see each other more,” the thing says, playful in a way that it hasn’t sounded yet, bouncing off you in a way that feels indignant and confusing. You don’t like it. “When’s he start classes again? April?”

"Yeah.”

"So half a year from now, he’ll be there, and you’ll be running the gym one city over. You guys can visit each other every weekend, it’ll be cute."

It churns and tumbles and doesn’t make sense, whatever it is. “Yeah…” You don’t know what to do about it.


	43. Chapter 43 — She

The bus Naomi takes from Saffron to Celadon the following day leaves her a five-minute walk away from Celadon’s easternmost Pokémon Center. She spends the whole ride looking tired, save for the moments when her phone buzzes with a hastily written text from Kenneth. Those are the only moments when she seems alert.

She seems awake—happy, even—when she steps off the bus late in the afternoon. She receives one text from Kenneth on her way to the Center that reads, _Okay, I’m here. Let me know when you are._ She grins at the message and doesn’t text him back.

The streets in this part of Celadon are active, but not overly noisy, and not overly crowded. They’re reminiscent of the more residential neighborhoods of Saffron, with enough people and enough traffic and enough bustle that’d it’d be difficult to get lost in a crowd and feel peacefully alone. Any time there _is_ a throng of people, made up of about ten individuals maximum, it’s outside a pizza place or a popular food cart or the Pokémon Center.

It’s only when the Center falls in Naomi’s line of sight that she slows down, never mind the few people behind her who quickly swerve around her and quicken their pace to get past her. She cautiously peers through the Center’s front window and grins when she spots Kenneth sitting in a booth, thumbs jabbing his phone . She purses her lips mischievously, holds her hands behind her back, and calmly walks in.

The Center isn’t especially crowded at this time of day, even though schools let out just a few hours ago. There’s a short line at the counter, and high schoolers, young adults, and even a few people in business attire linger in the lobby, standing around or taking up seats at tables and booths, filling the Center with a comforting din. Naomi easily goes unnoticed by Kenneth as she approaches his booth, right up until she drops into the seat beside him.

He jumps when she does, arm held out like he’s ready to push her onto the floor. But then he sees that it’s her, and the startled look on his face softens. It’s still surprised, and maybe just a touch panicked, but it seems grateful somehow.

“Hi!” she says.

“Hi…” His fingers scramble to lock his phone. “I… thought you were gonna tell me when you got off the bus?”

“Thought I’d surprise you.”

“By making me think a stranger was about to sit in my lap…”

She rolls her eyes, still smiling, and nudges his shoulder. “Move, I’ve only got half my ass on the seat.”

He slides himself over as well as his phone, its plastic case hissing over the vinyl surface of the table, his hand covering most of the screen. His finger restlessly taps the phone, ignoring the way it lights up and announces an incoming text with a buzz and the ringtone he chose specifically for Bill.

“Good news though,” she says.

Kenneth raises an eyebrow in response, barely glancing her way. The phone gives him something to physically focus on, finger still tapping away, and the lobby—the chatter, the motion, the lack of privacy—seems to draw his eye. Maybe his ears and his thoughts as well.

Naomi rests her elbows on the table and her chin on her fists, and when she smiles at him, she does so with a playful glint in her eyes. “I didn’t miss you too much. Just like you said.”

His tapping stops. He blinks. After a beat, he straightens, puts his hand over his heart, and presses his lips together. “That hurts,” he tells the table, too flatly to seem entirely genuine.

She laughs. “Aw, did you miss _me_ too much?”

For a moment, two seconds at most, there’s just the noise of the lobby. A sharp pause where he doesn’t look at her. But then he frowns a little, shrugs a shoulder, and places his hand over his phone again.

Her smile melts into something fond. The way she nudges his shoulder with her own is familiar and close. “I missed you too. Even though it’s only been like four days.”

“Five days,” he says, without hesitation. The pause that should’ve been there before his words comes after he speaks, when he blinks at his phone looking like he’s taken aback by himself.

Naomi looks up, lips just barely, silently moving. “Oh. Yeah, five days.” She looks over at him, watching him for a moment as he stares at his phone and goes back to absently tapping its dark screen. “So, any chance we can grab lunch? I’m starving.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh. We could go to this burger place I found the other day?” It’s only toward the end of his question that he looks at her.

She swings her legs out of the booth and stands up, rising on her toes and stretching her arms overhead with a groan. “Honestly I don’t care what we eat… I just want food.”

He smiles and gets out of the booth himself, pocketing his phone and his hands. “There’s a bubble tea place around the university.” The information gets her attention. “I checked, they have matcha.”

She purses her lips. “Ooh, we’re going there after,” she says, grinning.

His own smile widens a little. “Thought you might like that.”

 

The burger place he takes her to is little more than a shack surrounded by rickety metal tables, right in the middle of a park that spans two city blocks. The park isn’t any place special, just a green rectangle amidst a cluster of high-rises, with more concrete and gravel than there are trees. The park’s main attraction _is_ the burger place, if the forty people waiting on line is any indication. Naomi’s face falls when she sees the line, and only pouts at Kenneth when he, unconvincingly, tries to assure her that the wait is worth it.

She whole-heartedly agrees when they finally get their food.

They sit on adjacent sides of a table halfway in the shade of an oak tree, and the only thing that sits in the sun is the spare chair that holds their backpacks. Naomi’s gaze shifts between her food and Kenneth, but Kenneth seems to look in every direction except hers. His food, the trees, the loud group eating a few tables over, even the few Pidgey and Spearow that hop around the tables in search of fallen food—they all hold his attention better than Naomi does, even when he asks her about her gym battle.

“With Surge?” she asks. She dips a fry in ketchup. “It wasn’t really anything noteworthy. Diglett, remember? I mean, I guess that wasn’t ‘creative enough’ for him but whatever…” She rolls her eyes, bites off half her fry, and then grins. “I gotta show you Aya later.”

“Yeah,” he says, and finally his gaze stops moving around. It still doesn’t meet hers, though, staying fixed on a Pidgey snacking on a tomato slice. He furrows his brow. “Creative?”

“Guess he expects more from me,” she mocks. But her expression becomes somber, and she sighs.

The Pidgey finishes its tomato, hops away, and flies off, and Kenneth’s focus changes again. He stares at the street corner that’s visible from where he’s seated, absently dipping and re-dipping a fry in ketchup.

Neither of them says anything for fifteen seconds, after which Naomi looks over at him, eyes the way he’s staring off into the distance just dipping that fry in ketchup, furrows her brow, and leans over to try to see what exactly it is that he’s staring at. It’s only then that he seems to remember the fry. He pops it into his mouth, picks up his burger, and asks, “What about Erika?”

She looks at him. “What about her?”

He takes a bite of his burger and shrugs. Naomi might have forgotten about the street corner, but he hasn’t. He keeps his eyes fixed on it, maybe on some unchanging point like a parked car or the trash can.

“Like what my strategy is for her?” she asks.

He nods.

“Oh, just Ren,” she says, moving to take a bite of her own burger. “I mean who else would I use.”

He shrugs. Chews. And then slowly stops chewing when a woman steps into his line of sight, waiting at the corner for the light to change. Her face is turned away, but the way she stands, the way she’s dressed, donning a flowy, strapless dress and thin high heels, even the Murkrow perched on her shoulder, fits the conventional profile of a beautiful, confident woman.

And he stares. With a mouthful of food that he forgets to chew.

“I don’t think Erika’s got much up her sleeve against a bug-and-flying type, so,” Naomi says around the food in her mouth, and she pauses to lean over again and crane her neck, “even with… just Gust, I should be good, what are you staring at?”

His eyes widen. He blinks, straightens, starts chewing his food again. He can’t say anything, so he just shakes his head and looks down at the table.

When she finally sees who he’s been staring at, she smirks. “Ooh, did your heart get all weak again?”

He grunts and swallows his food and frowns at his fries.

“I love her dress…” She straightens in her seat and looks directly at him. Gives him a cheeky smile. “Maybe you should go talk to her.”

“Ha!” he scoffs. He picks up his cup of soda and glances at the woman who’s still waiting for the light. She’s turned enough now that her face—her scowl, really—is visible to them both. And then he stares into the ice cubes in his drink. “Are you kidding me, she looks like she could murder me with her shoes.”

Naomi rolls her eyes.

“Not that that’d be a bad way to go…” he mumbles.

“What?” she laughs.

“I mean, I’m just saying!”

“Alright, well,” she says, smiling, as she picks up another fry, “what’s on your mind aside from being murdered by beautiful girls?”

He takes a sip of his drink and raises an eyebrow at her. It’s the first time since they’ve gotten their food that he’s looked directly at her .

She shrugs and looks down, drawing circles in her ketchup with the fry. “You look like you’ve been distracted all day.”

He stares at her for a moment, eyes a little wide, looking a bit like someone who’s been caught red-handed, but if he has been, he doesn’t make it glaringly obvious. He just bites his straw and works his teeth against the plastic before setting the drink down. Though he does look away from her again. “Just tired.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Having to fix my sleep schedule so suddenly has not been fun.”

The way she squints at him speaks volumes about how convincing he’s being. “Okay… But everything’s been okay there? At the lab?”

He nods and picks up his burger, keeping his eyes squarely on it. “Aside from attractive college students, yeah.”

“Ah.” She considers him for a moment, fingers drumming lightly against the table, brow furrowed. A pager buzzes against a nearby table. “So… why’s Giovanni using the university labs again?”

“Genetic engineering stuff,” he says around the food in his mouth, “for battling Pokémon?”

“Oh, right. To pull the guesswork out of breeding and all.”

He nods and takes to staring at a street performer in a plot of gravel not too far from them, a blonde woman who releases an Emboar for a dance. “He’s been working on that for some months now… Either the labs here are better than anything back in Viridian or it’s an alma mater, major donor, pride kind of thing.”

“The lab building’s named after him, right? May as well use it.” She follows his gaze to the dancer, looks back at him, and smiles. “But when Blaine and Fuji come back, it’s off to Cinnabar to work on their secret project?”

He nods and eats the last of his burger.

They stay silent again, long enough that he finishes his drink and she finishes her burger as well. The performer’s music rings with a folksy beat catchy enough that some of the Pidgey chirp along. It’s only when there’s a lull in the melody that Naomi asks, “Are we going to that bubble tea place next?”

“If you want.”

“And then?”

He shrugs, chews on a fry, and looks over to the street corner again. The woman who was there earlier is long gone now. “Walk? I could show you where the training grounds are.” Naomi makes a face, but he doesn’t see it. “I know you don’t like the idea of renting a battlefield by the hour but, you wouldn’t have to commute all the way out to Route 7 or 16, and the rates aren’t bad. Plus…” He glances at her. Doesn’t turn toward her, doesn’t really meet her gaze. But it counts as looking at her. “I thought that maybe we could have a battle while you’re here?”

She raises an eyebrow and grins at him. “A battle? Why the interest?”

“Thought it’d be fun,” he says with a shrug.

She considers him for a moment, squinting a little. The music picks up. “Still not a trainer though, right?”

He smiles.


	44. Chapter 44

You only notice the girl and the boy because you can smell their food. It can’t be much food, or at least it doesn’t smell like they have much, but it’s enough that you can get a whiff of it in the cool night air—something meaty, smoky, even a little spicy—from half a block away. Much better than the bits of sweet potato and noodles you managed to find that made up your breakfast and lunch today.

You wait for them to get closer, fluff up your tails, and trot over to them, the tag of your collar jingling at your throat.

The boy stops short when he sees you, carefully taking a bite out of his steamed bun—and you would love one of those, they’re delicious. Your favorite meal, even if you only got one once every now and then.

The girl lights up. “Oh, look at this cute little Vulpix!”

It’s a good sound. The best tone any person could use when you approach them. You know you’ve already wormed your way into her heart, so you yip at her, rub your face against her knee, circle behind her, and rub your face against her again.

“Aw!” she says.

“Where’s its trainer?” the boy asks around a mouthful of food.

“Here, hold this?”

She crouches—she’s going to give you food, right?—but one of her hands is empty and the other just holds a green drink. It’s disappointing… But she starts petting the top of your head. And it feels very nice, so you can excuse the lack of food. For now.

“You’re so cuuute,” she coos. She scratches the side of your face, your neck, and then her hand stops at your collar, tags jingling. “‘Emi…’” You bark softly at the sound of your name. “Huh, there’s no address.” She looks up at the boy. Maybe to get food? “Should we just take her to a Center?”

You follow her gaze to the boy, now holding a steamed bun in each hand, too far away for you to grab either. “Guess so.”

There’s a pause. “Uh, could you hold my drink too?”

The boy’s expression falls, and he stares. And stares. Until finally he sighs, awkwardly puts both buns in one hand (of course it’s the hand farthest away from you), and takes the girl’s drink with the other. “I’m gonna eat your pork bun…”

There are hands under your shoulders and you turn, and the girl’s lifted you off the ground. She holds you with an arm underneath you and a hand that scratches your back, and it’s nice, but better yet is the fact that you’re closer to the food in the boy’s hand now. “Come on, Emi, let’s get you back home.”

The walk to wherever they’re taking you is chatty and not very long, but it’s long enough for the boy to finish his food and awkwardly feed the girl the rest of hers. Somehow they work together to keep you from getting a bite, and when the buns are gone, you figure you might else well get moving to find someone who _would_ be willing to share their food. But, you also figure they might take you somewhere with more food.

They take you indoors somewhere, someplace so bright that it hurts your eyes for a moment and makes you squirm. The girl scratches your back again, and it eases you a little. You have a moment to take in the place—sharp, clean smells, like the kitchen shortly after breakfast every seventh day; beneath that, the faint scents of other people and creatures, mixed with dirt, grass, smoke, car exhaust; footsteps that click against gleaming floors; nothing but the reflection of the interior against the windows looking out into the night.

You spot yourself, half an orange face peering over the girl’s shoulder, before she sets you down on a counter. “Excuse me,” she says.

You turn and see a man in plain pink with tired eyes and a tired smile. “How can I help you?” he asks.

“We found this Vulpix out on the street by herself, and her collar doesn’t have an address. I was hoping you could figure out who her trainer is?”

“Ah.” His hand goes to your collar and clinks the metal there. His tired face comes close. He _smells_ tired, and so clean that it almost makes your nose itch, but you press your nose to his cheek anyway. His face softens, at least. Looks just a little less worn. He straightens. “I’ll need your licenses.”

“Oh, no, she’s not ours—”

“I know. I still need them.”

“Both of ours?” the boy asks.

The man nods. You watch as he takes a pair of plastic cards from them, walks over to a computer behind the counter, types something in, and comes back to return their cards. “Alright, I’ll just be a few minutes.” He picks you up the same way the girl did (complete with back scratches) and carries you into the back.

The hallway he takes you down isn’t anything noteworthy. Mostly white with pale blue accents and a few pictures on the wall. It smells funny here. Annoyingly clean, still, but sharper. More bitter. Less like the kitchen, this time, and more like the bathroom on that same seventh day.

You figure you won’t be getting food after all.

The room he brings you to is small and looks about the same as the hallway. The only difference is a set of wooden cabinets and drawers and a tiny sink, smaller than the one in the bathroom you used to know.

He places you on a table, fishes around for something in a drawer, and comes back to you with a little white stick in his hand. “Alright Emi, all I need’s a cheek swab, okay?”

_Emi_. You bark.

He holds your mouth opens and sticks the thing against your cheek—and it tastes dry and weird and it’s definitely not food, and you don’t like the way he’s holding your face so you start growling— But it’s over quickly, and he pats your head and he’s a fine person again.

“Alright, wait right here.” You recognize that _wait_ , so you promptly sit down and watch attentively as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Maybe he’s going to get some food?

You _wait_ just fine for a short while, staring patiently at the door until you hear his footsteps. By the time he’s opened the door again, you’re already on all four legs, but you don’t smell or see any food.

He carries you back to the counter where the girl and the boy are, chatting with each other. 

“Alright, so,” the man says as he sets you down, and yeah, you’re not getting any food at all. But you figure you still have better chances here, with these three, than you do wandering the streets for another night. “Her DNA hasn’t been altered to include the record of _any_ owner _or_ breeder, so—”

“She’s never been caught?” the boy asks.

He nods. “Whoever gave her the collar must’ve poached her. Which means I’m gonna have to hand her over to a shelter so they can figure out what to do with her. Unless one of you would like to catch her right now?”

A pause. “I already have James.”

“Well,” the girl starts, and you veer when you feel her fingers at your back. She’s smiling at you. “I wouldn’t mind a cute fire-type to fight Erika with… But…” She looks above you, at the man, you assume. “Is there really nothing we can do to find her owner?”

“Not that I can help you with, sorry.”

The girl frowns at the boy.

“I mean, unless we find flyers for a missing Vulpix… You could always release her later if anything?”

“True… Okay.” She swings her backpack around, unzips a pocket, and starts digging through it. For food, maybe? You don’t smell any, but you stand more attentively anyway, shaking your tails from side to side. “I should have a spare Great Ball in—oh, here.”

What she pulls out isn’t food, of course, but this isn’t the first time you’ve seen one of those things, blue and white with a pair of red lines. You’ve never seen anyone actually use one, though. So you don’t know what to do when she taps it to your side and there’s light, and then nothing.


	45. Chapter 45

Scent and sound come back to you first: distant car exhaust, dirty air, humans calling out orders, the assortment of cries and barks and caws from other creatures, the gentle rumble of cars in the street and a plane flying overhead, and above all, the whirr and click of that sphere.

It all smells and sounds familiar at least, but it’s only when your vision finally comes back to you, color and shape bleeding through the white, that you’re able to relax. There’s a dirt battlefield before you blanketed in sunlight, a familiar space closed in by chain link fences with battles and training sessions on either side: on the left, a girl on her phone with a large, sparking, orange-and-yellow rodent; and on the right, a green-haired boy with a violet scorpion.

You turn, and behind you stands the girl from last night. She’s brought you to the training grounds. Just like your previous owner always wanted to do.

The girl crouches before you and pats your head. You shut your eyes, nose her palm. It’s nice. “We figured we have pretty slim odds of finding your owner so… I thought I’d see if I could battle with you?”

_Battle._

You bark once and stand tall, ears straight and tails held high.

You don’t get to battle, but you do get to go over commands, words accompanied by a thrum in your chest that you haven’t felt since before your last owner disappeared. _Confuse ray_ , _will-o-wisp_ , _flamethrower_ , they come to you with almost-memories of what it’s like to use them. The fire, of course, is what the girl is most interested in, just like your previous owner. But she doesn’t mean to use it to cook or reheat food, you know that. She wants it for battles, for progress, for something that is but isn’t freedom.

You know it without a doubt, like she wears that desire in every word and motion for the world to see.

It’s easy to latch onto her voice, speaking familiar commands with such ease that she must have others like you. You spit fire into the air and at targets on the ground at her discretion, reveling in the heat and motion. She’s happy with what you manage to do; you can hear as much in her voice, can see it in the way she holds herself. It shouldn’t be too much to expect head scratches from her later.

It’s a scent that distracts you, one you immediately recognize as belonging to that boy. It’s faint, gentle like soap and something else that makes you think vaguely of home, but it’s masked by something almost chemical that reminds you of that building from the other day. (From yesterday?)

He was nice enough, and even though you don’t smell any food on him this time, he’s still worth going to for head pats. The girl hasn’t offered you any yet, so maybe you’d fare better with him. You turn to him and run up to him behind the fence, yipping playfully. But he doesn’t seem to notice you. He just stops short on the other side of the fence, tenses, and stares.

“Oh, hey!” the girl says. “What took so long? I was about to call you.”

“I— Uh, no, I— Thought I forgot something…”

He looks like he’d benefit from some nuzzles and head-pats.

You yip again, tails held up and ears twitching as you pick up the sounds of surrounding battles and the girl’s footsteps approaching you.

“You okay?” she asks.

He hesitates. “Yeah!”

There’s the click and rattle as the girl opens the gate. The prospect of head scratches fills you with something excited and hesitant, but you don’t let the latter stop you. You pad backward as she pulls the door open, and you go around it, bounce up to him, and rub your face against his knee, hoping for at least _one_ head scratch.

His fingers brush the tuft of fur on your head. That’s a good start.

“I—” he starts, and sighs. “It— Long day. Is all. I’m tired.” But his fingers still, and he tenses beside you. You circle behind him and rub your face against his other knee. Maybe this time he’ll actually pay attention to you?

“Oh. Well, if you want, we could just chill? Unless you’d be fine with just sitting there watching me train.”

“Whatever’s good for you,” he says, still pretty much ignoring you. Maybe if you circle him enough times… “Is uh… Is that the dress you mentioned?”

“Oh! Yeah, the one I got in Vermilion! Isn’t it pretty? I finally got to wear it.”

“Yeah, it— You— It looks good.”

He still isn’t paying attention to you. Maybe if you nudge his hand?

“You’re sure everything’s okay?” she asks.

That seems to work. He finally brushes the tuft of fur on your head again—even crouches down to properly pet your head and back and sides.

You like him. He gives good scratches.

“I’m sure,” he says. The corners of his lips turn up a little, and he shyly looks away from you toward the girl. "Um… Ace colors, right? They look nice on you."

Something about his words makes you feel warm. "Yeah. Thanks."

He still seems shy when he looks at you again, but his smile is a little bigger. That’s good. Maybe he doesn’t need the nuzzles anymore, so he can just focus on giving you his attention. "So um... Training for Erika?"

“Do you wanna help?”

But the scratching pauses. And he looks at you kind of helplessly, like what he needs is reassurance. Kind of the way your last owner looked the last time you saw him. “Uh— Sure.” He takes a deep breath and gives you one last head scratch before standing up.

“You mind if Emi and James spar a little? I’d like to see how she fares against something that can dodge her Flamethrowers.”

He reaches into one of his pockets—maybe for a treat that you didn’t smell? Sometimes people have treats in their pockets. But all he pulls out is one of those red and white spheres. Disappointing. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

There’s a flash of light that you have to close your eyes against, and with it comes a new scent, something like dirt and ash and a little like the boy too. When you look again, there’s a pointed, red creature with a flame on the end of his tail. He blinks at you, yawns, and stretches his arms overhead, his tongue poking past sharp teeth. He looks like he’d be dangerous. But he smells like the boy. He can’t be bad if that’s the case, right?

He proves not to be. Despite all the flamethrowers the girl has you spit at him, he never once runs up to you with those teeth or those claws.

He’s speedy, though. No matter how carefully you aim, he manages to stay a step ahead of your fire, moving in time to leave you with nothing but plumes of fire and dirt to show for your efforts. After his second dodge, you figured it would just be a matter of recalculating. But after the fourth? You start to growl.

“When’d James get so quick?” the girl asks. Something amused bubbles up inside you among your frustration.

“We’ve had some time to practice…”

You try to keep a closer eye on his feet this time. Try to figure out how he’ll try to dodge, how quickly he’ll be able to move. Maybe you can head him off?

“Emi,” the girl says.

You pause your sneering to look back at her, some pitying smile on her face that makes you think that, even if you don’t do very well, you’ll at least get head scratches this time for trying.

“Match his movements, okay?” She points, and you follow her finger back to your opponent, watching you quietly with his tail flickering behind him. You could run for him. “Go for it!”

It’s worth a try. You spit fire and dash toward him, toward where you think he’ll run. But he reacts too quickly and gets out of the way, and you stop short and growl—

“Emi, keep going!”

You pick up again. Run and spit fire, and when he bolts, you don’t stop. You go after him until finally your flames catch him in the arm and he reels. He grumbles and falls back, and you yip and bounce.

“There you go!” she says, with the kind of pride that always comes with head scratches. She better not disappoint you after this. “Just close in on him and keep up the pressure!”

You run again, right, left, fire preceding you, heading him off a few times before he can get too far. You catch him twice more before the boy says, “Mind if we fight back now?”

The girl doesn’t say anything, but even you feel agreeable to his words.

“James, jump in with Scratch!”

He circles you for a moment before flying up in a red blur, startling you into dropping your fire, forcing you to look up. You only catch the glint of his claws and scramble back without thinking. His attack lands in the dirt before you, and you’re about to shoot another stream of fire—

“Confuse Ray!” she calls.

You bite back the cinders in your mouth, feel them die on your tongue as you make eye contact with the thing. Spots of light play in your vision for a moment, until he starts swaying on his feet.

“James?” the boy says.

He ( _James_? Is that his name?) snorts and tries to blink the spots out of his eyes. He turns and snarls at empty space, claws unsteadily clasping the air or his own arms.

“Actually,” he says, and must-be James disappears in a flash of red light, “maybe we should call it there.”

Something like pride blooms in your stomach.

“Emi, come here!” the girl calls, in what is undoubtedly the tone of someone about to give you head scratches. You don’t hesitate. You turn and run to her, and she crouches and runs her hands over your fur as soon as you reach her, finally. You lean into every pat and scratch. “You did so well for our first training session!”

“Oh. Uh, that’s it for now?”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll have her spar with Kyou tomorrow,” she says, and you know this will be far from your last opportunity to get her attention like this. A little more running around and a little more fire-spitting is very little in exchange for this. “But I don’t think I’ll need to train her too much for Erika.”

“What’s your plan for Erika again?”

“Oh. Well, it _was_ gonna be Ren.” Her scratches haven’t faltered yet, good. She’s not bad at this. “But Emi here’s really impressing me, aren’t you?” she coos.

Your name, the cooing. You yip happily, to encourage her.

“Yeah, but what’s the strategy?”

She doesn’t stop scratching your sides, but she does (unfortunately, and she was getting good at it) falter now, noticeably enough that, along with the weird little pit in your stomach, you have to open your eyes and look at her. You’re not sure what it is, but there’s something there, something behind her eyes or her smile, that tells you that something is off. She shrugs. “Go in guns blazing with Gust or Flamethrower? Don’t need much more than that, really.”

“Oh.”

Her hands stop. Your heart thuds in your chest. She looks up, likely at the boy somewhere behind you. “What?”

He lets out an odd breath, something low and hesitant, that you barely catch over the sound of electricity one battlefield over. “I… You said something about Surge yesterday, right?”

“Oh. I dunno, that wasn’t a big deal.” Soft. The way she says it. The way she holds herself. You feel it in your head too, guilty, annoyed, but quiet all the same. “As long as it’s good enough to get the badge, right?”

“I guess… But, what about for running a gym?”

She looks down at you, eyes narrowed, lips frowning, fingers idly scratching your side again. Far from the nice scratches from just a moment ago. “What’s that matter…”

You hear his shoe scuff the dirt. He speaks up, but his voice is quiet and careful. “I mean, that’s the point of all this, right? Train now and get the badges so you can run the gym later?”

Her frown deepens. She looks up for a moment, then back at you, then not at you but still looking down. Her fingers stop. “Why are you bringing this up…”

Maybe it would help the scowl and the tension if you nuzzled her face? You nose her cheek, taking in the scent of something sweet and like vanilla. Your efforts don’t change much, unfortunately, but she does run her hand over the back of your head and that’s nice at least.

“It’s relevant.”

She presses her cheek against yours. For a few seconds, all you really hear is her fingers brushing over your fur, and the calls and cries in the battlefields nearby. “To?”

And quietly, so quietly you’re sure the girl doesn’t hear him: “Don’t be stubborn…” He pauses, and then he says more loudly, “To all this. Your… half-assed training.”

You feel her stiffen. You freeze too, and it makes the hammering in your chest apparent.

“It’s just—” he starts. “I don’t know, you’re making it so that you’re just getting by because you hate where this is gonna take you, and if you’re gonna hate being there anyway, why not just… quit now, you know?”

Her fingers press against your sides, no longer scratching, no longer present, just something desperate in her and in yourself that you can’t place. “You know exactly why I can’t.”

“Can’t you—”

“No!” she says. Your heart matches her tone. “No, Kenneth, I can’t.”

“Naomi—”

“I don’t— I didn’t ask you to come here so you could shove all this on me again. I’ve thought about it plenty. Trust me. So you can—” She falters. Looks down at you again with a pained expression. Her voice loses its bite, and your muscles loosen. Your tails droop. Your ears flatten. “You can fuck off with all of that…”

There’s a pang in your chest, or in your head.

“Let’s battle,” he says, before you can figure out what it is. Regret? Anger? Sorrow?

She looks up at him. The look on her face doesn’t quite match any of those. “What.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna battle me over this?” she asks flatly, disbelief in every sound she makes, and also something else.

“Well, seeing how we can’t settle our frustrations in Smash right now…”

She rolls her eyes. Futility? “We both know I’m gonna win.”

“That’s not the point. Besides, isn’t it a rule that you have to battle anyone who challenges you?”

And not futility about whatever it is that’s passing between the two of them, choking the air with something that makes it hard to move. “It’s a guideline, not a rule…”

“What if you’re a gym leader?”

“I’m _not_ a gym leader.” Futility about something you think (she thinks?) is completely out of her control.

“But you will be if you keep this up. And we both know what your track record is for going along with what people tell you to do.”

She glares. And her lips twist into an unsettling smile. She stands and reaches for something in her bag, and now you can move. “Okay,” she hisses. You run to stand behind her—to _hide_ behind her, really—and watch as she tosses a sphere onto the ground.

What appears from the light smells overwhelmingly like soil, to the point that you almost don’t notice the girl’s scent on her. She’s smaller than you, this mole. She’s maybe half as big as you are, brown, goggled, and with an air of violence to her and her claws that you cower behind the girl’s legs.

“Aya,” the girl says, in a tone that makes your heart race and makes you itch for motion and fire, “it seems Kenneth wants to get his ass kicked. And since I’m _so good at obliging people_ …”

That pang from earlier hits you again, deep and bitter.


	46. Chapter 46

There’s a flash of light on the other end of the field, one that gives way to something brown and fuzzy with sharper, bigger teeth than even James. Big enough that they stick out of his mouth.

“Aya!” the girl calls. The mole before you twitches. That must be her name. _Aya_. “Dig!”

She takes a second to move. Maybe she isn’t used to sounds yet—if she can hear. She doesn’t look like she has ears. Maybe that’s why it takes her a second.

But she _can_ hear. And after a moment, Aya burrows underground faster than anything you’ve ever seen. She’s gone in two blinks, with only a mound of dirt left behind to indicate she was ever even there. You stand as tall as you can, even stepping forward, getting up on your hind legs, and leaning against the girl to see if you can spot Aya in the dirt. But there’s nothing.

“Charles, listen for it.”

His— _Charles_ , must be—whiskers twitch. His ears twitch. He tilts his head so his ears point toward the ground and you can’t help but do the same. You can’t see Aya, but maybe you can hear her too?

You hear the earth rumble up ahead. A chitter.

“Get out, Quick Attack!”

Charles bolts, towards you. In a way that startles you, yes, but also annoys you. Or, annoys the girl? You jump back behind her legs and bare your teeth (unthreateningly so, maybe, but you don’t let that stop you).

“Hyper Fang!”

How annoying.

“Magnitude!”

You know what the girl wants. To tear up the ground so Charles can’t get close. But she doesn’t say so, and you’re not sure how Aya figures it out (maybe the way you did, however that was?) but she does it. The ground splits in a jagged line running from her feet to Charles’. He doesn’t have time to stop himself. One of his feet gets caught, and he trips and slams his face into the ground. Aya takes off without any hesitation.

You hear the girl suck her teeth, and the sound, the feeling behind it—it resonates with you. “Scratch,” she grumbles. You doubt Aya can hear her.

“Use Quick Attack again!”

Charles isn’t fast enough. By the time he gets up and readies himself to run, Aya has her claws at his flank, and he hisses and reels and she strikes him again—

“ _Aya_ ,” she says.

She stops, but she doesn’t back off until a red light takes Charles away.

“Surge didn’t call you out on her barely listening to you?” the boy asks.

“She was fine during my battle,” she says, but something feels a bit off. It’s about Aya, you think, but not right now. Like a memory, maybe. “She’s just being pissy…”

And then Aya disappears in a flash of red light.

“Wonder why…”

Your muscles twitch. “You bringing Rosa out or what?”

White light, and now, in front of the boy, stands something yellow and brown and spiky, with claws so long and sharp that even at this distance you feel the need to cower behind the girl’s legs with a weak sneer.

She tosses something out onto the field, light bursts from it, and now there’s something round in front of you, with a brown shell and furry blue ears and tail. He smells much more like the girl than Aya did.

You hear the boy huff.

“Kyou, think you can take on this Sandslash real quick?”

For a moment, the newcomer stays still. Then his ears twitch and he lowers himself into a stance of sorts—not one that _you_ would find intimidating, but a stance nonetheless—and warbles softly.

“Rosa, Sand Attack!”

“Withdraw!”

He pulls his head and those fluffy ears and tail of his into his shell. He topples on the ground as a spray of sand falls over him.

“Go for Poison Sting!”

You bounce on your feet, watching as violet needles shoot out from that other thing’s back, all aimed at the shell on the ground. And it’s annoying, somehow. The attack? The opponent? The boy? Something is annoying. Maybe all of it is. You don’t know. You growl softly, at nothing in particular.

“Stay in your shell, but go for Water Gun!”

It’s nerve-wracking to watch. It makes every muscle in your body tense, leaves you ready to jump and run (Forward? Away?) should you need to. Your ears are pinned back, but they twitch every time those needles pierce the ground with a hiss or bounce off the shell.

It’s only one breath that passes, maybe two, before water shoots out from inside the shell. But it takes just long enough to happen that you can’t help but think something is wrong.

The jet of water flies out with so much force that you jump back. The opponent screeches when it hits. You watch as she gets pushed back, until finally she curls up into a ball and a red light takes her away.

There’s another breath or two, where the girl stays quiet and you stare at the unmoving shell. All the spines that had been embedded in the dirt around it, even the single one that managed to lodge itself in the shell, slowly dissipate.

“Kyou?” she says, smoothly and caringly.

The shell moves, and his tail and limbs slide out. Slowly, he turns toward the girl and you, looking at her with his head lowered and like he might be in need of attention.

He seems nice enough. Meek, at least, and even though you know he can shoot violent sprays of water, you’re not deterred. And he smells like the girl. So you go up to him, tails high, ears straight, nose twitching all the way. He doesn’t flinch when you press your nose to his belly or his arm. He smells like dirt and grass and rain.

The girl comes up to you both, placing a hand on both your heads. You nuzzle her palm happily and brush your tails against her arm. Maybe she’ll give you lots of head scratches and belly rubs. That’d be nice.

“Thanks, Kyou,” she says. _Kyou_ again, and he warbles in response. Yes, that must be his name. You watch as her hands run over his ears (and the hand on your head stops moving…). He smiles.

She gives you your head scratch—two quick, back-and-forth motions of her fingers, not nearly enough—and stands. “You can at least be more entertaining if you’re gonna be half a trainer,” she says, something playful in her tone that _just_ smoothes out your insufficient-head-scratch disappointment.

The boy grunts. “I’m no future gym leader, so.”

But then the disappointment comes back. “I was feeling better…” she mumbles. You rub your face against her knee. Maybe she’ll reconsider the head scratch? “Why all the button pushing…”

He sighs. Walks up to her. Part of you wants to go up to him too. Part of you doesn’t. You’re not sure why. But you watch him—the way he doesn’t quite look at her, the way he frowns, the way he seems just a little tense, by the set of his shoulders. “No, you won. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Well, okay, I won. So answer my question?” There’s a pleading lilt to her voice at the end. The kind of tone your owner would use to get you to cooperate from time to time.

He looks at her now, with just enough surprise in his face that you have to look at her too. She seems thoughtful, maybe.

He hums. His footsteps are what draw your attention back to him, to watch as he goes to sit on the bench a few steps away. “I’m… worried.”

“About?” she asks softly. You feel the pull now. Like maybe, in the same way that Kyou did, the boy needs some attention too.

“About you.”

You step forward at the same time the girl does, and somehow that gives you the burst of energy you need to reach him in a few leaps. He doesn’t hesitate to run his thumbs over your cheeks or rustle the tuft of fur on your head.

The girl sits down next to him. She doesn’t seem to try to give you any head scratches… But if her last, meager head scratch is any indication of what future ones will be like, that’s okay. Kenneth’s are better, anyway. “About me?” she asks.

He doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at you a little sadly.

“I mean, you could’ve just—” she starts. But when she stops, doesn’t say anything, and just sighs, you look at her. She’s staring off to the side, grimacing at… You turn to see what, but there’s nothing there. Just the gate. The most you notice is Kyou in the corner of your eye waddling up to the rest of you.

The head scratches slow… You look back to Kenneth immediately, nosing his hand like maybe that will encourage him. It works a little. “Could’ve just…?”

She grumbles. “I was… gonna say you could just say so, and in a nicer way, but I guess you already have before so…”

He runs his thumbs over your cheeks one last time before sitting back, hands resting on his thighs. “You’re… stubborn,” he says.

You resent that, whatever he said. You step closer and nose his fingers, and you win. Resting your head on his leg, he at least keeps running a thumb over your snout.

The girl doesn’t say anything, but you can see her pouting at nothing. She crosses her arms and leans against him, and his thumb stops. You have to nudge him again to remind him. “I don’t like you,” she says, something playful tickling you.

“That’s okay,” he sighs. His thumb stops again. “I like you too…”

She smiles, but only for so long. “So… what am I supposed to do again?”

He takes a second. Takes a deep breath. You remember to remind him again, and he gives you a few head scratches this time. Much nicer than the cheek pats. “Uh… Just… make a decision, I guess. Preferably a whole-hearted one. Not easy, but…”

“Do I have to do that right now?” she whispers.

“No, but… the sooner the better, right? It’d be easier to get out of it, if that’s what you decide.”

You watch her for a moment—the way she stares at Kyou now standing by her legs, the way she reaches for him, the way she’s frowning. “Right,” she says. Something sad has been poking you this whole time, hasn’t it? And not even the boy’s head scratches make you forget it.


	47. Chapter 47

Today is the first time you get to enjoy being around your teammates.

Your surroundings make it easier, somehow. You’ve spent the past few days (or, you think it’s been at least a few days) at the training grounds or at the Center, but today you’re some place relatively green. The scent of grass is strong and invigorating, but it doesn’t quite mask the smell of people or car exhaust or the enticing scent of smoke wafting from a nearby food cart.

This place has a different energy to it. The air still hums with the presence of people and other creatures, but it’s more peaceful than it is at the training grounds, and livelier than it is at the Center. It makes it feel like you’re meeting your teammates for the first time again.

“You guys just have fun for a bit,” Naomi says as she sits at the base of a shady tree, her phone in her hands. It beeps with the tune of a blocky game you've seen her playing.

You know she means for you to do otherwise, but you go up to her and nudge her hands and her phone for some attention. “Emi,” she chastises, but she pats your head. That counts as a victory. “Go play with the others.”

You look toward them at least. You look to the park beyond the others first, the grass broken up by concrete paths, other humans chatting with each other or playing with their creatures, cars and buildings peeking in from beyond orange and yellow trees. You don’t think you’ve been to this particular park before, but it feels familiar all the same, and refreshing.

It’s when Ren takes off for the branches above you and Naomi that you bring your attention to the others. Kyou and Mika sit next to each other in the sunlight, Mika alert and twitching her whiskers, and Kyou watching Ren up in the tree, a splotch of white and purple among the orange. Aya stays in the shade in a shallow trench, a good distance away from everyone, with her sights on the branches as well.

She’s the one you’re most curious about. The other three seem fine enough as they are, never seemed bothered by you or anyone else—except for Mika when you first met, when she hissed at you with her ears pinned back and her tail sweeping the ground, but she doesn’t do that anymore. Aya, however, seems to have a problem with everyone. You could go up to her, maybe, but… She’s kind of scary when she starts scraping the ground with those sharp, sharp claws, scowling through those goggles like a small, silent, efficient beast.

No, it’s best to leave her alone.

“I don’t know how to get her to warm up to everyone,” Naomi says. You look at her and find her frowning at Aya. “Kenneth said Diglett are pretty solitary, so I’m hoping that if we just give her some space she’ll come around but… I hope it’s just a matter of time.”

You tilt your head at Naomi. It _is_ best to leave Aya alone. For now, at least.

She nudges your shoulder. “Anyway, why don’t you go play with Kyou and Mika?” She scratches your neck, and it really doesn’t make you want to leave her. She’s getting better at the scratching thing. “You can get attention from more people than just me,” she teases.

She’s stops scratching, though, and goes back to her beeping phone, so, fine, you’ll oblige. Maybe Kyou and Mika won’t be so distracted? Unless Ren is doing something particularly interesting up in the branches, but you doubt that.

Kyou regards you with a warble when you go up to him, sniff him (he still smells like Naomi and dirt and rain), circle behind him, and plop yourself down between him and Mika. Mika just scoots over a little to make room for you. It’s nice. Considerate. Cozy. You nuzzle her side (she smells like Naomi too, and earthy) as thanks.

You listen to senseless chatter, to the wind stirring the trees, to the soft hum of traffic beyond the park. It’s peaceful here, with this group that you’re starting to think you can call your own after being without your previous owner for so long.

There’s a spark of some kind when Ren leaves the tree. You feel it mostly from Kyou, who shifts with curiosity, and follow his gaze to Ren, fluttering down with early autumn leaves in his wake.

You don’t expect Kyou to graze a leaf with a jet of water. You look at him. He warbles and does it again, and the way the leaf spins in the air is mesmerizing.

Maybe he notices the way it grabs your attention, because he warbles again and fires off three more jets of water. After that, you just want to join in.

Fire doesn’t offer you the same amount of precision, and it doesn’t make the leaves dance the way Kyou can, but it makes heat and light and color dance around them instead, flaring before snuffing out and letting the leaves continue fluttering down. The fire lasts a brief moment, but it’s a bright one. And fun.

Kyou warbles at you and smiles. All it takes is eye contact and a shift in the air.

There aren’t many leaves left still falling, so you have to do this swiftly. His streams of water are quick and precise, for the most part, anyway. Your flames, less so. But the remaining leaves spin and dance in the light of your fire, and the way Kyou warbles with delight, the way your body thrums with something bright that you haven’t felt since your owner disappeared—you can’t help but bounce and yip with excitement, so much so that you almost miss the _click_ coming from Naomi. You turn just in time to catch her lowering her phone and smiling at you all.

Your heart swells with warmth. Maybe even with a little pride.

Her phone rings. Some short, blooping sound, different from the game, that makes her look at it and then look up and around the park. She stands before you can follow her gaze and try to spot what she’s looking for, but you smell him soon enough anyway. You run and follow Naomi off the grass and just a little ways onto the concrete path, because Kenneth still gives the best head scratches.

There’s someone else with him, though. Someone whose scent reminds you of fences, of plastic containers, of a lit stove. Someone who, for just a moment, makes you consider running back to play with Kyou.

“Oh, Giovanni,” Naomi says. You stop next to her instead of walking up to Kenneth and eye the man. He stands tall and broad-shouldered, something careful in his aged, square face. There’s a stillness to him that doesn’t sit right in the air, something schooled and hidden that keeps you rooted to Naomi’s side.

“Naomi,” he says, voice deep, slow, and disquieting. It takes him a moment to smile politely. “Good to see you again.”

“Yeah. Good to see you too,” she says. You fidget beside her. Her hand finds the tuft of fur on your head.

“We, uh,” Kenneth starts, and just the sound of his voice is enough to calm you (or Naomi?) a bit. You feel drawn to Kenneth and spare him a glance. But the man stands at the edge of your vision like a racing heart and the need to run. You don’t keep your eyes off him for long. “We ended up taking the same path from the labs.”

“Oh,” she says.

The man looks at you, and then at Naomi, but it’s like you can still feel his gaze on you. Haunting you. “You’re still collecting badges I assume? Are you here for Erika?”

“Yeah.” She scratches your head. It doesn’t help much. “It’ll be my fourth badge.”

He looks at you again. Holds your gaze. The feeling still stays when he looks at Naomi. “Will you be evolving your Vulpix before the battle?”

She brushes the tuft of her fur on your head, runs her fingers halfway down the back of your neck. It tickles. It comes with a thought of change and growth and power that stirs in your gut uncertainly but almost inevitably. Instinctively. “Actually I… haven’t thought about it.”

“There’s a department store in the neighborhood that sells evolutionary stones, if you need one.”

“Oh. Thanks. I guess I may as well pick one up in case…”

The man nods and turns away, enough so that you’re relieved; he’ll leave soon. “Well, I wish you the best of luck with your battle. Though I’m sure you won’t need it.”

He starts to walk away, and your muscles start to unwind.

But then Naomi says, “Oh, um,” and you tense again. You itch for shelter, and nothing should be keeping you from running back to the others or to the shade of the tree, but… “I wanted to ask… Kenneth was telling me a little about your work.” You feel Kenneth shift, and you look at him without thinking about it. He has his head ducked, but he’s looking at Naomi, eyes a little wide, like he’d benefit from nuzzles and head pats again. But you still don’t move from Naomi’s side. “It… would be for the sake of making it easier to raise Pokémon for specific roles, right? Battlers, therapy pets, police work, whatever else…”

“Yes,” the man says.

Kenneth’s gaze shifts, and you follow it back to the man.

“Is your work with Fuji and Blaine something similar?” Naomi asks.

The man watches her for a moment long enough that you think he might not say or do anything at all. “You’re both rather curious, aren’t you…” he says. He shifts, turning further away so that all you can really see is his side. “Well. The thought we had was that if we could alter a Pokémon that already exists, we might be able to bring one into existence with specific traits. We could save endangered species more quickly. Revive extinct ones. Perhaps create entirely new ones.”

“I see,” Naomi says.

He leaves afterward, but his presence—his gaze, his stillness—lingers in the air. A breeze runs through your fur, like static. Your stomach churns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I gotta remember to start adding notes here. ^^')
> 
> Emi and Kyou are adorable.
> 
> Still not 100% sure how I feel about this part? I wanted to leave out a few things so it didn’t drag, hence the mention of Emi meeting Mika and Ren, but I think I got across all I needed to.
> 
> Yay for suspicious Giovanni?


	48. Chapter 48

You aren’t alone with her again until a night when you come face to face with her on the floor of her Center room, nothing but her phone and a crystallized rock between the two of you.

It’s the rock that grabs your attention. Or, something within it. Something warm and magnetic that makes it difficult to look away. Without a voice or a thought or a motion, not even with the way it catches the light, glimmering yellow-orange-red when you shift your head even just so—it calls you. And you yearn to touch it.

“Alright, Emi,” Naomi says, and maybe you should look up, but you don’t. “I’ve been thinking about it for like two days now and… I think I’ll leave it up to you. If you want to evolve or not. I don’t think I need you to evolve now but, I mean, having a Ninetales— Well, it’d probably be kinda overkill to be honest but…” She pauses. “Well, it’s up to you.”

She shifts, and the floor creaks, and you hear her tapping away on her phone, and maybe you should touch it. The stone. You feel like you should. On the surface, it feels like that’s what Naomi wants, but you know that’s not all there is to it.

She sighs. “After the gym, we’re taking a break.” The floor creaks again. The tapping continues. You want to laugh a little. “We need an early birthday celebration for Kenneth. Plus it’s been too long since I kicked his ass in Smash.” She pauses. “Can’t decide?”

You look at her. She’s lying on her stomach, raised on her elbows with her phone glowing in her hands. The way she smiles at you is patient and understanding, but it makes something knot in your stomach. A feeling that stays even when you look down at the stone again.

“I’ve always been awful at deciding…”

Maybe you shouldn’t touch it.

“I guess I never… actually _decide_ on anything. Didn’t really decide on the ‘taking over the gym’ thing. Guess I let Bree and my parents pick that one for me… But it’s not like there’s anything I wanna go to college for so…”

You lie on your stomach and whine. You don’t know what’s stopping you from going up to the stone. Naomi? The pit in your stomach? Yourself? You know what will happen when you touch it. The knowledge is instinctive, as concrete as your heart beating in your chest, and it’s a good thing. It should be a good thing. So what’s stopping you?

“Didn’t decide on my karate classes, didn’t decide on clubs, barely even decided on my friends, we just all had the same classes together.” She huffs. “Couldn’t even decide to keep in touch with my best friend from junior high and she was… different, I guess… Sometimes being with Kenneth feels…” She sighs and you curl in on yourself, nose hidden in your tails, stone still in sight. “I still barely keep in touch with my friends… Graduated half a year ago and I just text them every now and then like I’m just waiting for everyone else to say something or do something so I can just go along and I _know_ I do that but I—”

Her voice cracks.

You shut your eyes. Your heart races. Your breath shudders.

She sniffs. “Gods… Um.” Her voice wavers. She sniffs again. “I just mean,” she says as the floor groans, “you know, I-I get it. Which is… dumb. To say. To… something that can’t talk but. You know…”

Silence. And then she sighs. Something thuds softly against the floor.

You open an eye and see her hand lying in front of you, not even a paw’s breadth away.

You look at her. Her eyes, dark and gleaming, look tired. Like she’d benefit from nuzzles and head-pats.

“You don’t have to decide now. And… I don’t want to decide for you.”

The stone calls you again, but you keep your eye on her, then on the hand in front of you. She’s not the best with head scratches, but you reach for her and nose her fingers anyway. She scratches your snout and the underside of your jaw. It’s enough to make the pit in your stomach disappear.

It’s enough to make the room feel peaceful.

But then she takes a deep breath and pulls away, and the moment vanishes. It’s colder now, just having lost her touch. The stone calls you again.

The floor creaks. “It’s too late to bug him,” she mumbles. She sits still while you watch the stone again, and then she stands and walks elsewhere in the room. And it’s just you and the stone, and her presence somewhere vaguely in the back of your mind.

You can choose.

You wait. Not for anything specific, though some part of you wants to wait for that peace to return.

Naomi sighs again, and the bed creaks, and you remember that it _is_ a good thing. That it’s different and new to you, but good. And you can choose. Your heart sinks ( _her_ heart sinks) but you can choose, and you think you will.

You stand, and it’s almost like the stone pulls you forward, tugs each of your legs and each of their muscles, and by the time you’re close enough to step on it, there’s no question about it. Even if you still feel your heart in your stomach—

This is a good thing.

You choose. While Naomi tends to the knot in her gut, you press your paw to the stone. And it fills you.

There’s light first. Then heat, and something stinging in your heart. Something that flashes over your fur and skin like lightning, that swells inside you like the fire you can breathe. It sinks into your muscles and your bones, into your heart and your thoughts, and you feel her just before it all leaves you—

Cold and longing.

When the light fades, the floor is farther away. Your legs gleam gold rather than orange, your body feels larger, heavier, stronger, and something buzzes—in the air, maybe, or in your thoughts—stronger than it did before.

“You…”

Is it Naomi?

You look at her. She gives you a watery smile and untucks her hair from behind her ear like she can hide behind it. But she gestures for you to come close. She holds you around your neck and laughs hollowly when you lick her cheek. “Guess it’s just me…” 

You almost don’t realize when she starts crying.


	49. Chapter 49

The big battle ends as quickly as your heart pounds.

You know it’s your new form that does it. You’re quicker, sharper, stronger. The woman on the other end of the field doesn’t stand a chance, and neither do the creatures she sends out. They sling vines and leaves, and they wither and disintegrate in your flames. (You think of nothing but how you and Kyou made those leaves dance in firelight.)

They can’t touch you.

The last of them, some golden, open-mouthed creature, disappears in a flash of red light, and the woman nods. Your heart swells with pride. You bounce on your feet. You’ll get plenty of head scratches from this, you know it. And if Naomi can’t give you enough, Kenneth is in the crowd. He can give you head scratches too.

Applause echoes around you. Naomi calls out, “Emi!” and you run to her excitedly. She hugs you (she smells sweet, like flowers but different from the ones you smell here) and rubs your back. “Holy shit, that was so much better than I expected!” You lick her cheek and she hugs you tighter. It’s not as good as a head scratch, but everything’s buzzing too much for you to care right now.

She squeezes you a little tighter before standing up and meeting the woman at the center of the field. You walk beside her, head high, tails up, heart thrumming in your chest. You could run lap after lap off the adrenaline alone, but you should be here beside her for this.

“Congratulations, Naomi,” the woman says, voice quiet and pleasant. “I can’t say I’ve been defeated so quickly in recent history.” She looks down at you and smiles. Maybe she’ll give you head scratches too? “You must have trained a lot.” But she looks back at Naomi and hands her something small and colorful that smells like metal. You guess not. “Though that’s to be expected from a future gym leader.”

Naomi looks at the piece of metal now in her hand and nods. Your heart thuds with a familiar, though uncertain, feeling.

“You realize four badges is as far as most people make it, yes?”

Is it doubt? “Yeah.” You snort and try to shake it off. “Surge made sure to let me know.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah…” She rests her hand on your head. It’s a warm, comforting weight that makes the feeling fade, and it reminds you of the other night. Of her hand under your jaw, and of peace, short-lived as it was. “I’m sure he wouldn’t think too highly of me relying on Emi for this battle.”

“He’s just being hard on you. Misty too, I bet. And we know how Koga is… Don’t let it get to you. You’re doing well, and you have time to learn.”

The feeling doesn’t vanish, though. And when all Naomi responds with is a quiet, “Thanks…” you lean into her touch and press your nose to her side. She pets you more attentively, so maybe that was all the distraction she needed.

“I put together a list of autumn teas I think you’d like. You can buy most of them here in Celadon. I’ll send them to you later, okay?”

Maybe this whole deal, the battle and whatever Naomi is talking about with this woman, is something worth celebrating with treats too, not just head scratches and little nuzzles. “Oh! That’d be great, actually. Thanks.”

Naomi leads you off the field. You feel lighter as you follow her, and lighter still when you spot Kenneth. He’d probably agree with you; maybe he’s not one to give you treats from time to time (that’s something Naomi has over him), but he can at least treat you to excellent head scratches as a reward. As soon as you run up to him, he doesn’t disappoint. “Hey, you did great, Emi!” he laughs. You lean into his touch.

“And you were worried,” Naomi says. Her tone is supposed to be playful, you think, but it doesn’t sound like it. You can feel the levity fading, just enough that you try to find it again in Kenneth’s scratches.

But he straightens and moves his hand away. “Just trying to look out for you.” Thankfully, all you have to do to get him to pat your head again is nose his hand. “I’ll get you some tea to celebrate,” he says, fingers running through the crest on your head. “How’s that?”

She hums. This time she does sound as light as she means to. “Well, Erika’s gonna send me a list of teas to buy, so yeah, that’s better.”

“But not _good_?”

“Depends.” The smile she gives him is a cheeky one that pinches her eyes. As far as you can tell, Kenneth is the only one she smiles at like that. “What else do you have to offer?”

He laughs softly. “Uh… I dunno, I could go for some sushi. And then we can get these guys dinner.” He ruffles the crest on your head, and it just makes you want to run and play. You have the energy for it. Maybe he would want to? Or Naomi?

“And then tea?”

“And then tea.”

“And then Mario Kart?” she asks, as giddy as you feel.

You turn and circle behind Kenneth, but even that bit of motion makes you want to dash back to the field, the only open space here. “Sure, if you wanna get your ass kicked _tonight_.”

She scoffs and pushes past him playfully, back toward the lobby, and you follow immediately. Maybe you can convince them to play with you outside. “Who’s currently winning again?”

“By two,” he replies, voice light and spirited. “Don’t get cocky.”

“And then I’ll take back my throne in Smash.”

“Nope, not happening.”

She shares a few words with the man at the front desk, two minutes of talking that you spend bouncing on your feet and nosing at Kenneth’s hands since she’s too busy to give you any attention. But when she turns back with a smile and pockets the piece of metal in her hand, you run ahead.

The front doors slide open. You wait just before the threshold for the two of them, barely catching Kenneth’s, “She’s just that excited to watch me win,” as he walks ahead of Naomi.

She rolls her eyes. She stays by the front desk for a moment, just long enough to watch Kenneth approach you and pause beside you to wait for her. Just three beats of your heart.

She looks at him fondly, in a way that makes you think of your old owner. He can’t come back, you know that. But you miss him. And those memories (and maybe her memories too) fill you with nostalgia and simple joy.

You can cherish that.


	50. Chapter 50 — She

The Oak family’s vacation townhouse has an air of abandonment to it.

It’s not evident in the way it looks. It seems as perfectly manicured as the townhouses around it, clean stone and brick, power-washed stoop, manicured hedges just behind the fence. But in the late-hour glare of the streetlights, surrounded by the glowing windows of occupied homes, the townhouse seems devoid of a family entirely.

Maybe it’s that thought that has Naomi peering at other townhouses on the street and has Kenneth looking at his feet as they approach the building.

“Gods, I haven’t been here in forever,” Naomi says when they reach the front door. She lingers on the step behind Kenneth and looks up, taking in the building with a wide-eyed look as if it’s different from how she remembers it.

“Been like… four years, I think?” The keys jingle in Kenneth’s pocket and in his hands as he fishes them out. “When you met my parents, right?”

“Yeah.” The first, and only, time she met them.

He slides a key into the top lock with a click and turns it. “It’s nice. Feels like I’m staying at a hotel.” Another key undoes the second lock with a _clunk_. “Like all my parents’ tenants, I bet.”

It’s a narrow home, with a view from the front door that goes through the living room, the dining room, and into the kitchen, all furnished in a way that is, true to Kenneth’s words, reminiscent of a crisp, modern hotel.

Naomi stops just inside and fidgets with her backpack’s shoulder straps. “That’s fancier than I remember.”

Kenneth closes the door behind her, turning both locks and hooking the chain. “Yeah…” He drops the keys onto an end table by the door. They clatter loudly and hollowly.

Naomi takes a few steps into the living room, gaze shifting like she can’t pick any one thing to focus on or commit to memory—the three-person couch that looks barely lived-in; the loveseat that Kenneth would claim for himself whenever he and his family came out here; and the coffee table that, for the one time she visited him here, served as a barrier between the two of them and the rest of his family when they sat on the floor playing video games. It’s the coffee table that she settles her gaze on, though she runs her hand over the back of the couch.

Kenneth remains by the door with his fingers drumming against his leg—the only sound that passes between them.

It prompts Naomi to face him with a smile and say, “But we’re not here to be fancy.”

He smiles in turn, nods toward the stairs, and asks, “You wanna leave your stuff in the guest room?”

“Sure.”

He leads her upstairs and points out his room and the guest room straight ahead, and the master room behind them. “It’s weird going in there,” he says with a glance at its white double doors. He doesn’t elaborate, but she looks at him like she understands.

The guest bedroom looks as untouched as the main floor of the townhouse, but Naomi hardly gives the room any of her attention. She toes off her sneakers at the foot of the bed and places her bag on the floor to go through it once, just to make sure the tea she bought after dinner and her five occupied Poké Balls are safe and sound. Then she follows Kenneth back downstairs.

“Do you have any snacks?” she asks when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, turning for the kitchen before he even has a chance to answer.

“Uh…”

“Boooo.” She slides on Zelda-print socks past the dining table and into the kitchen, stopping at the counter. She faces him with a pout that’s barely visible in the light coming from the living room. “You can’t spend a Friday night gaming without snacks.”

Kenneth hits the light switch, and the room gleams. Quartz countertops, white cabinets, modern finishes, it all glows like a model kitchen in the middle of a furniture store. “Well, okay, unless rice counts, no, I don’t have snacks. But—”

“We should’ve bought some before we got here.”

“ _But_ ,” he repeats with a smile. He opens the half-stocked fridge and quickly pulls out a bottle. “You _can_ spend a Friday night gaming without snacks if you have drinks.”

She matches his smile, raises an eyebrow, and takes the bottle from him. “Oh, champagne? Maybe we _are_ here to be fancy.”

“Better for an early birthday celebration than beer. It’d be like new year’s.”

She laughs as she turns the bottle over in her hands. It’s some cheap, sweet champagne that he must’ve picked up at a grocery store with an indifferent shopkeeper. “Your cousins were the best controller thieves, bribing them was fun…”

“Okay, like new year’s but without the cheating.”

She hugs the bottle to her chest and looks at him with her mouth held open in a silent gasp, corners of her lips turned up—partly affronted, wholly amused. “I didn’t _cheat_. I simply played all aspects of the game to the best of my ability and you can’t say otherwise.”

He smirks at her and, without taking his eyes off her, nudges the refrigerator door shut and opens the freezer. “Mm-hmm.”

“Honest!”

He looks back to the freezer. There’s nothing but ice and some fish in there. “Okay, so I really don’t have anything but rice to snack on.”

“Rice is good, I’m fine with that if you want,” she says with a shrug. And then she grins at him. “Actually, you’re too much of a lightweight anyway, you’ll need the snack.”

His only response is to yank the champagne out of her hands.

 

They’re two glasses in when they decide racing on Rainbow Road would be a good idea. Two glasses in when Naomi gets hit by Kenneth’s blue shell, right after driving off the track for the second time in five seconds. “For fuck’s sake!” she screams.

He cackles beside her, watching as he moves up from fifth place to third and speeds past her.

She shoves her shoulder into his. “You piece of shit,” she says, but the words don’t come out venomously at all.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m gonna kick you.”

“Babe, you’ve been threatening that _all_ night and my ass is _still_ untouched.”

He misjudges a turn. He falls off.

“Oh. Whoops.”

She rolls her eyes and shoves her shoulder into his as she takes fourth. He’s visible on her half of the screen now, the back of Shy Guy’s little red head just a blip on the horizon. “‘Babe.’ You need water.”

“ _I’m_ perfectly fine! _I’m_ the one winning!”

And between the two of them, he is. At least, until a red shell slams into him and she speeds past him. “You were saying?” She practically sings the words, voice lilting with arrogance.

“Ugh, _fuck_ you…”

“Love you too~”

He almost misses a turn.

Their grand prix ends with her in second and him in fourth, and even though she gives him a look that is nothing if not pure gloating, she only tells him, “I’m gonna get you some water.”

“But I don’t _need_ water right now.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You finished in fourth, you called me ‘babe,’ and you’re doing that thing where you stress your words too much.”

He pouts. He tilts his head back, pushes his bottom lip out, and sulks at the ceiling with a groan, and when she doesn’t say anything, he leans against her and squishes his cheek against her shoulder. “But I don’t _want_ you to get up…”

She pats his head and gets up, leaving him to whine and slump over the couch unceremoniously. 

“Fine,” he mumbles against the seat. “Be like that… Leave me here to _rot_ …”

“I got up precisely so you _don’t_ rot.” She grabs a glass from a cabinet and pulls a pitcher of water out of the fridge. “Because I care.”

“Leave ‘cause you _care_ , yeah, that makes sense…”

She pauses on her way back to the living room, empty glass and water pitcher in hand. And she looks at him. He’s far from his best, half-lying down on the couch, face smushed into the cushions, fingers anxiously moving across the controller in his hands, all while frowning at the floor.

She sighs softly. She sets the glass and the water down beside their drinks on the coffee table and crouches in front him. “You okay?” she whispers.

He doesn’t even look at her.

“If you need to rant, I’m all ears.”

“I… _You’re_ the salt mine when you’re drunk, not me.”

She smiles and brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes. “We can swap places for tonight. I’ll try to be all flirty and call you cute, how’s that, babe?”

He hunches his shoulders. Tightens his hold on the controller. And while he tries to frown or scowl, it’s clear that he’s smiling. He doesn’t help himself much by hiding his face in the couch.

“Really?” she laughs. “That’s all little ol’ me needed to say to get you all flustered?”

“Not… ‘little old you,’ you’re—” He sighs into the couch, tenses his shoulders, sighs again and turns his head just enough that he can see her from the corner of his eye. “We were talking about my parents, right?”

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” she says softly.

“Right…”

“Just want you to know that I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.” He turns his face out of the couch, but he doesn’t look at her. His gaze stays vaguely on the edge of the couch, somewhere in the air just beyond it. “It’s not like there’s anything new to say, though… Just that staying here doesn’t exactly bring up happy memories.”

She frowns, but while she looks worried for him, she also looks frustrated. “Sit up?”

He does so, but not without slouching horribly against the back of the couch, only to lean against her as soon as she sits down.

“You still don’t know the next time they’re coming home?” she asks.

“No,” he says against her shoulder. “They’re still off in fucking _Kalos_ with some Mega Stone bullshit or whatever it is that they’re researching, I dunno… Because that’s _always_ been _so_ much more important than me, right? Not worth flying back for my graduation or even for my birthday— I bet they haven’t even noticed I turn nineteen in _four_ days.”

Her leg bounces. Neither of them seems to notice. “I’ll fucking kick their asses…”

He scoffs.

“No, I’m serious, I will buy a train ticket just to kick their asses the next time they come back. I have a black belt, I will put it to use.”

That, at least, gets him to smile a little.

For a moment, they don’t say anything more. Naomi keeps bouncing her leg, Kenneth keeps staring at nothing, and the game’s looping victory music continues to fill the silence.

It’s Kenneth who speaks first. “Could I just have some more alcohol…?”

She ponders it. Her bouncing slows and stops, and she smiles a little. “Only if it’s so your racing gets worse.”

He doesn’t quite smile, but his expression brightens, something a little more attentive in his eyes as he looks to the game again and hits the A button on his controller. “Sure.”

If anything, she’s the one who gets worse. Or at least, she’s the one who gets a lot more frustrated about getting worse, groaning whenever she messes up the boost at the start of the race or grumbling about “fuckface Waluigi over here” constantly trading places with her.

Kenneth laughs under his breath the entire time and takes any opportunity he can to look away from the game and glance at her.

And at some point, he stops stealing glances altogether and just watches her.

It’s only when she gets pulled back onto the road again that she notices he isn’t playing anymore. Now she steals glances at him. “What?”

He hesitates, though there’s this dreamy, hazy look in his eyes that makes it seem like he didn’t quite hear her. Like he needs a second for his brain to catch up to the one word she spoke and then process it, only to come up with a half-baked response like, “Why are you so pretty…”

“Okay,” she laughs, “no more alcohol for you.”

His expression falls slowly, but despite the clear disappointment in his eyes, he seems distant. “I was just asking…”

She rolls her eyes. “Why do you find everyone pretty?”

He looks down, with a contemplative frown. And brings his hand up to his chest. And says very, very seriously, “‘Cause I have a big, gay heart…”

She barks out a laugh that rings throughout the entire home. “Well, you’re not wrong, Kenny.”

His frown deepens, and he peers up at her. “‘Kenny?’”

She smirks. “Oh, sorry, is Bill the only one allowed to call you that?”

He makes a face and goes back to the game, like racing when he’s over half a lap behind everyone else is the only way to save face here. He doesn’t say anything.

Not that he needs to in order for Naomi to coo, “Awwww.” And when he doesn’t respond, she pushes herself against his arm and says louder, “ _Awwwwww_.”

“You’re being _annoying_.”

“Poor Kenny has too many _feelings_.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s okay.” She places a hand on his cheek, abandoning Rosalina in the middle of the road and quickly falling to eleventh place. Kenneth almost does the same, Shy Guy faltering on the screen. He fails to keep himself from smiling at her touch. “I was… gonna say something else but I forgot, but it’ll be okay.” She pats his cheek and leaves her hand there.

He looks at her, oblivious to Shy Guy crashing into a wall. “You’re—” But he bites his lip and goes back to the game.

She grins. “What?”

“Nothing…”

Naomi glances at the screen, just in time to watch Kenneth overtake her, and stretches with a quiet squeak, arms out over her head, toes pointed straight over the floor. She turns toward him, crosses her legs over his, and nestles herself against his shoulder.

He falters. Drives straight into a banana.

She hums. “I forgot how comfy you are…”

“Oh…”

She jumps back into the game, but her eyes are sleepy and hazy, and she hardly tries to take the upcoming turn correctly. Rosalina’s face stays pressed against a wall for a solid five seconds while she tries to turn back onto the road. “Can I tell you something?”

“Uh, s-sure…”

“I missed this.”

He drives straight into a fake item block.

“Visiting you and just playing games all night. Not that it’s even been that long, like, what, a month?”

“Something like that…”

“Mm.” Not a single other player is visible on her half of the screen, and with the race nearly over, she gives up. She leaves Rosalina in the middle of the road again, tosses the controller into the pillows at her feet, and reaches precariously for their empty glasses on the coffee table and the bit of champagne still left in the bottle. “I wanna make a toast…”

His gaze bounces between her and the screen. “A toast?”

“Mm-hmm.” Somehow she manages to split what’s left of the champagne without spilling anything, hanging over the floor as she is. “To you!”

Shy Guy slows to a stop in the middle of the road, and now Kenneth’s gaze stays fixed on the glasses of champagne. “To _me_?”

“Yeah!” She strains to grab both their glasses, but she manages, and she hands him his ounce and a half of champagne with a bright smile. He has enough presence of mind to pause the game and set his controller aside to take the glass from her, but it might only be so he has an excuse to look away from her for a moment. “‘Cause, you know, you’re my best friend and… Well, you’re always there for me. You hear me out when I need someone and you help me a lot, even if I’m being _stubborn_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes lightheartedly.

He ducks his head and smiles.

“But you’re always understanding!” she continues, wide-eyed and bright. “And! Well, you’re kinda cool too? I mean, you’re a giant nerd and all, but you’re really smart and hard-working and responsible, and sometimes I wish I could be a little more like that? So I guess I kinda look up to you. And… I dunno. I dunno what I’d do without you so. Yeah.” She gives him a toothy grin. She’s the one who clinks their glasses together, because Kenneth can barely look at her, much less meet her glass with his own. “To you!”

A quiet, “O-oh,” is the only thing he says in response to her toast. He doesn’t even sip at his champagne the way she does, choosing instead to keep hiding his blushing face from her.

“Aw,” she laughs. She pokes his cheek with the rim of her glass. “You need to be complimented more.”

He groans and lowers his head. “I don’t need _you_ complimenting me more, it’s worse that it’s you saying all of that…”

She pauses. All the brightness leaves her expression and instead, her brow creases with worry. “What? Why?”

“‘Cause I r—” His grip tightens on his glass. He lowers his head even more, practically tucking his chin into his collarbone. “‘Cause… you… mean a lot to me too…”

She smiles again and leans forward. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes, in the quirk of her lips, even in the way that she tips her glass forward, unaware of how close she is to spilling her drink. “Oh?”

“Yeah…”

“How much do I mean to you?”

“I— Um, just— You know— I—” He gives up; his breath leaves him in a desperate huff, and he drops his head to his knees, almost spilling his own drink in the process. “I can’t use my words right now,” he whines.

She laughs gently and takes his glass from him. If anything, that only prompts him to curl up even more. “Are you okay?” she asks, running a finger through his hair.

“No!” he hisses.

“Why not?”

“Because— ‘Cause I’m drunk and have a lot of feelings, okay!”

She smooths his hair down and laughs. “Okay, okay.” She brushes her fingertips over the back of his neck, and for a moment she doesn’t say or do anything else. She just keeps smiling at him fondly. “Do you have too many feelings to give me a hug?”

“…Maybe.”

“Booo,” she chides.

It’s enough to get him to sit up, at least. He doesn’t straighten, doesn’t quite lift his head, but he sits up enough to hug her in a slump, arms around her waist and face half-buried in her hair.

She smiles softly and hugs him back. But after a moment, her smile turns mischievous. “It’s funny how flustered you get.”

He whines and hides his face in her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two drunk dweebs giving me more italics tags than any chapter should have...
> 
> Iirc my friends enabled me to write a drunk Mario Kart chapter a few months ago, and then I went ahead and wrote what is currently Self-Indulgence: The Chapter for this run, hehe. (Honestly, I wanted to write a alternate ending after Naomi leans forward saying, "Oh?" involving a little drunk kiss, Kenneth backpedaling and being a blushy mess like always, and Naomi just being all, "huh, actually that felt kinda nice, can we try it again?" So if you ship them like my trash self does, imagine that scene, it's cute. =w=)
> 
> Finallyyyy we get to Kenneth's family issues. I feel like I've been talking about forever but now it's actually shown up in the story.
> 
> One final thing: 50 marks the start of The Good Shit and I cannot wait for the next handful of parts oh man.


	51. Chapter 51

Emi is alright in your book.

What made you decide this was the way she played with the leaves with you the other day. It was the first time you felt like you actually got to know her, and it’s different from how you got to know Mika and Ren and Aya. (Well, you haven’t really gotten to know Aya. You’re not sure anyone has, beyond the fact that she doesn’t like anyone and really doesn’t like Ren.)

Emi’s different now. You only recognize her because she sticks close to Naomi, nosing her hands or nudging her side for attention like always.

You think back to when you grew your new tail and ears, when your arms and legs turned a deeper shade of blue. You think back to the woman who looked so much like Naomi but felt so different from her—or maybe you felt different around her. When Naomi left, you stopped feeling that small, bad thing nipping at your thoughts.

You feel it now (have felt it since), while Naomi hovers over you and Mika, fidgeting with a yellow bottle. The feeling is small and indeterminate, but it’s there. “Okay, I’m gonna need you two for Koga. I feel like you might be my best bets against exploding poison types, especially you, Kyou.”

Your nerves tingle.

She looks over her shoulder, and you follow her gaze with dread. There isn’t really anything there, just waves of grass and some figures in brown and black far in the distance. “And I hear lots of people here are just as fond of exploding poison-types as Koga is, so… Trial run?”

The men she pits you and Mika up against don’t strike you as friendly sorts. The way they talk is rough, and just looking at them puts you doubly on edge. As Naomi talks to them, Mika sweeps her tail back, and you can feel the air around her tense. You can feel the way her breathing changes. Her tail hits your leg by accident on each sweep.

These men are maybe twice your height and at least twice as big as Naomi. Some part of you wants to step forward and take them on, but the better part of you would rather pull into your shell and stay there.

You think, faintly, of that monstrous, rocky serpent. (How long ago was that?)

They agree on something, and you and Mika follow Naomi a ways back before the three of you face them.

A battle. Of course. It doesn’t surprise you—you felt that familiar, anticipatory thrum in your muscles already—but you had hope.

One of the men steps forward and sends out some floating, violet, gassy thing that smells like garbage. Naomi decides you, not Mika, will be the one to battle him, and you fight him on pure adrenaline.

It’s not so much that everything fades to the background when you fight. It’s more like Naomi gets louder, as if you understand her more clearly.

As if when she shouts, “Shoot it down with Water Gun!” you know she means to bring it down to your level so you can bite it.

As if when the man orders something afterward and she tells you to _get away_ , you know you don’t have the option to even entertain the instinct to pull into your shell.

As if when you do defeat your opponent and that light pulls him away, you know that you’ll have to face many more enemies just like him.

You don’t know what to do about it, if you even can.


	52. Chapter 52

Before you can see where you are, you smell salt and remember two things: Oak, who’s such a far-off memory by now that he almost feels like a dream, and the river that he’d bring you to for exercise.

What forms around you isn’t the river, though. It might smell a little like it here—though sharper, stronger, clearer, without the scent of dirt to distract you—but this looks nothing like it. There are no trees here, no grass or soil. Just things small and gritty and a little warm beneath you, finding a place in every wrinkle and crevice in your feet.

But more important is the endless, roiling stretch of water before you, blue, and loud, and calling.

“Just you and me today, Kyou,” Naomi says. You don’t look away from the water. “We’re gonna be on the shore and I don’t wanna risk the others getting caught in the waves or anything…”

You hear her shuffle through her bag—hear one of those spheres enlarge, _that’s_ when you face her.

She’s crouched down at eye level with you. In one hand, she holds the sphere (yours, presumably), and in the other, a cube about the same size. “I went on a little excursion at the Safari Zone earlier. Found out they had a scavenger hunt for a Surf HM and I figured…”

She plugs the sphere inside the cube, and it clicks, and whirrs, and— You don’t feel it, but you know it happens. Something changes about the way you command water. You just don’t know exactly how.

The cube clicks, and Naomi pulls the sphere out of it. “Okay, I think that did it? Now we just have to practice.”

The water guides you more than she does. It’s cold when you step into it. Welcoming, like a memory, maybe. Like something crucial to you that you’ve had to go without for too long. The sound of it, its ebb and its flow—it guides your focus and your energy, and the control comes naturally to you.

You pull the water farther out to shore, far enough behind you that you hear Naomi take a few steps back. She tries to be encouraging, and it’s like she feels you through the rest of it. Like just the sound of her voice, regardless of whether or not you understand her words, is enough for you to figure out what she wants you to do. You spend time pulling the water out and arcing it overhead, but once that becomes almost second-nature to you, she wants you to let it go. Instead, she wants you to call on your own reserve of water, to spit it out like _water gun_ or pull it out of the air.

The latter is new to you, but it still comes easily. An orb of water forms at your hands, hovering just so, and spouts forward a wave that floods the ground—exactly how she wants, without her needing to tell you.

“We need the full-range attack,” she says. “Koga can be…”

She doesn’t complete her words, and you can’t find the feeling for it. Something difficult, yes, but you can tell that it’s more complex than that, more delicate, in a way you can’t grasp. You look back at the water lapping up against the shore. It pushes its way onto land and recedes, again, and again, and again, rhythmic and simple. Why can’t things be that simple?

Ringing.

Excitement.

You turn and see her fishing that rectangle out of her pocket. “Oh, give me a minute, Kyou! You can keep playing around if you want.” She looks at the screen—and then the excitement leaves you. The smile vanishes from her face. She stares at the rectangle for a moment longer before she quiets the ringing and holds it up to her ear. “Hey, Mom!”

You watch her as she talks. Something stirs in your chest, and you count the waves as they wash over your feet. Six times. Six beats to track her worries to as they play themselves out in your head and on her face—things concerning what you’re training for and, less clearly, what today is.

The worry bites. It makes your legs itch, makes your heart pound. And watching her fidget—the way she stiffens, the way her fingers scratch at her thumb or her palm, the way she focuses on one spot on the ground—doesn’t help. Six waves, before it becomes too much.

You have to look away. You turn back to the water and focus, too. On the way it sounds, loud and hushing and soothing. On the way it moves out, back in, and over itself, churning with foam, inviting.

On the way it feels like an extension of yourself, especially now. You wait for it, keeping time with its rhythm. You wait for the water to push its way onto land and come up to your feet gently, and before it can rush back in, you take hold of it. You swirl it into the dip of your footprints and let it pool and spin there, watching as it slowly, inevitably, sinks into the ground and disappears.

It feels weightless.

You make another pool, and another, each disappearing before the next wave can take it back, and you lament that the finality in Naomi’s, “Love you too. Bye,” and subsequent huff pull you out of it.

The last of your pools disappears as she types away on the rectangle, every press of her thumbs to its screen punctuated by a familiar _clack_. “Mom says happy birthday…” she reads. A pause. A brief moment of silence that makes you feel a little bit brighter, at least. “I can’t wait ‘til he finds the stack of smutty doujins I got him, he’s gonna hate me,” she laughs. “No idea if they’re any good but I’m sure he’ll love them. So, back to practicing?”

Back to the forceful push and pull of the water, to swinging it high overhead, to flooding the ground, even to hitting targets that she draws into the grit, easy enough to strike and not too unlike using _water gun_.

But you ache for the weightlessness. You ache for the simple joy that comes with pooling water in the ground, or making leaves dance in the air, or shooting down sticks of metal like it’s all a game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly
> 
> I just needed to shoehorned the smutty doujin thing as a nod to kenneth's guilty pleasure, which is reading smutty fanfic
> 
> he very much regrets the day naomi looked over at his phone to see what he was reading. his bravery earned him nothing
> 
> Alsooooo, we're back to Kyou! I missed the little guy ;w;


	53. Chapter 53

You don’t know how many days she spends training you, out by the water or back where those intimidating people are with their smelly violet creatures. One day, maybe, or two or three, it’s hard to tell. You don’t know for sure, with the way sleep comes.

However long it is seems to be sufficient for Naomi, because your breakfast that morning is accompanied with nerves and the thought of victory or loss hovering over everything. It’s like you can see your battle well before it actually happens: water and gas and, scariest of all, choking.

You don’t know what to make of the latter. It stays with you after the red light takes you away and the white one brings you to a room with applause, an audience, and a tall, thin, chilling man standing straight ahead.

You can’t move.

The man says something you barely hear over your heartbeat. 

“Of course I know,” Naomi replies. Her voice is stiff.

You don’t see the sphere he tosses onto the field, just the flash of light. It’s another of those floating violet creatures, oddly comforting in his stench. You can handle this. You know it will be hard to get yourself to move, but you can handle this. You’ve fought these things before, and won. You can do it again.

“Full range attacks, Kyou,” Naomi tells you quietly. Waves crashing on the shore, flooding multiple targets. Not letting an inch of space go unwashed. You know.

The man calls for something, Naomi shouts, “Surf!” and almost immediately a black cloud covers the field. The stench of it hits you, forces its way into your nose, your throat, your eyes. You cough and you lose sight of your opponent but—full range.

You pull water out of the air. The way it brushes your fingertips is all you need to feel in your element again.

The air drags behind you, water pulling up and over your head like a sheet. It crashes down with a comforting, silencing hush that makes you forget the stench and the man and the audience, and reminds you of water sinking into your footprints. The wave floods the ground, stretching and reaching until it slams into invisible walls at the edges of the field.

There are gasps from all around, and your heart thuds with the hope that maybe that was it. That that was the end of the battle.

The water doesn’t sink fully into the ground, turning compact dirt into mud that catches around your toes the way the shoreline did. Little pools of water swirl at your feet.

Your heart drops. That ball of violet rises from the mud, soaked and worn, but not out.

The man says something, and you tense and listen and ready yourself to move, though your body feels tired.

“What?” Naomi asks, tenser still. You don’t take your eyes off your opponent, floating and frowning and still leaking gas.

“Were you faced with Minimize,” the man says, “what would you do?”

She hesitates. You almost pull your eyes away from him just to look at her, but she answers before you get the chance to. “The same thing I just did?”

“Are you asking?”

Heat. A burn in your muscles that makes you want to call up the waves again as she answers, “I’d use the same attack.”

“Why?”

She hesitates again. You stir the water at your feet, never looking away from your enemy. “To... To wash out the field.” This is a waste of time. You could be curled up in your shell but instead, they’re treading obvious things. “You can’t miss anything if you hit everything.”

You ready the water. But a stream of red light takes your enemy away. “A change, then,” the man says.

Your heart thuds.

“You’ll face one other Pokémon of mine, rather than two, with a limit of three turns. Is that agreeable?”

The crowd murmurs under Naomi’s, “Um... Sure.”

“You may heal or switch out if you’d like.”

“Kyou.” You look at her, heart pounding in your chest. It matches the way she looks at you, all nerves and shaky determination. “Think you can take on one more?” You’d rather not.

But you warble anyway.

She nods and looks up. “We’re ready.”

Light flashes, and what emerges is something like your previous opponent, but bigger, two-faced, and uglier—in appearance, in stench, and even in strength, you can tell.

You should’ve said no.

“Turn one. Toxic.”

Naomi says something under her breath, and your heartrate spikes. “Kyou, be careful! If— If you can clear the ground around you with Surf, do it!”

She’s asking a lot of you in this moment, when the mud bubbles around you and darkens, turning black with a tint of purple. You don’t know how much you can do to keep it at bay but you have to try.

You push the mud and water toward the invisible walls, taking as much of that sickly purple as possible with it. You lift it before you in a massive wave, with every intent to pull that floating thing under and keep him there where he can’t hurt you and you can’t get hurt anymore—

Your leg seizes.

You scream.

It doesn’t sound like it comes from you, shrill and helpless to the pain in your leg. Something burns its way through your skin, through your veins and your muscles, and it crawls its way up your body in time with your pulse, deafening enough that you barely register Naomi shouting your name.

The pain passes. But you still feel it coursing its way through you, exhausting and sickening, awful enough to make your stomach churn and your vision blur.

“Kyou, are you okay?” You can’t really respond. “Do you—”

“Turn two,” the man says. “Sludge.”

You know what she wants you to do. To get out, or to use the incoming attack against him. But since you can’t do the former, or at least don’t know how to, you have to do the latter. You have to act. You can’t let yourself stay here, hemmed in by poisonous water (and you can do that, it’s not like dealing with massive boulders, it isn’t.)

Maybe, this time, Naomi is the one who knows what _you’re_ thinking. Because you’ve taken a step forward and already begun to stir the water when she shouts, “B-Block it with Surf!” and it’s like you think of your next move twice. You summon a wave at least three times your height, large enough that even you wonder when you gained the strength to do such a thing.

That thing in the air spits out a dark, purple glob and you know, just at a glance, that it won’t get you. It can’t. You crash the wave right over his attack, let the water slam into the ground and into the invisible walls and back over your opponent to bring him down, pull him under, get yourself out of here—

He hovers back up.

“One more…” Naomi says. Your heart thuds, and thuds, and whatever is in your blood now makes it hard to breathe. One more might be all you have in you.

“Turn three,” the man says, and your legs hurt. Your arms hurt. Your head hurts. “Selfdestruct.”

Your blood rushes.

She’s panicking behind you, you can feel it. You’d pull into your shell if you weren’t so tired—if you didn’t know, somewhere in the back of your mind, that hiding would be the worst decision you could make.

“S-Surf, just—! Move quick!”

It’s the adrenaline and the urgency in her voice, in your head, that move you.

Your opponent glows, well above the water, and you can feel the change in the air. The way everything stills for a moment. The extra bit of heat. The pressure.

You move. You raise your arms, calling the water up from the mud and into one ripple before you, cutting straight across the field from left to right, lines and rivulets moving and beating in time with your heart, as that thing gets brighter and brighter and brighter.

“Kyou!”

Something else courses through you. Something powerful and new that pushes the poison away. Something warm that reminds you of that woman and the moment when you changed.

Your arms glow with it, a blue shimmer that spreads though the water as you lift it. It rises high enough to dwarf your enemy and completely submerge him before his light lets loose, and the wave crashes down and rushes back to you, throws you, blinds you, deafens you—

The water washes over your head and recedes, and you open your eyes.

Your enemy is gone.

At least, you think so. You scan the field, but the only things of note are the sloshy, muddier ground and the man standing ahead with an arm raised. The invisible walls glow, shine, and then the mud spreads out like they’re no longer there.

Applause, quiet cheers, squishy footsteps behind you, and Naomi places her hand on your head. “You alright?” she asks. She sprays something on your leg and it stings, but already you can feel the poison easing its way out of your system. Why couldn’t she have done that sooner? Her voice is soft and grateful when she says, “You did great, Kyou,” and though the way she strokes your ears is soothing, it doesn’t quiet your heart. It doesn’t push away that ache for simplicity.

“Miss Tanaka.”

You don’t move. You watch as she walks toward the man now standing a few paces away.

He’s frowning, but somehow that doesn’t strike you as noteworthy. Like the creases in his face are always there, no matter what. He says something to her, too quietly for you to hear over your heartbeat in your ears. With the sound and the feel of your pulse comes the thought of a woman you don’t recognize, surrounded by greenery and tea, as though whoever she is knows something or has said something about that man and about this moment.

You take a deep breath. You shudder. Is it the poison still? Is that what leaves your mind racing, wondering if you did the right thing? Did Naomi not do the right thing? Is that why the man stares at her like that for so long, so intensely that even you squirm in your seat in the mud?

He holds his palm out to her, unexpectedly enough that you snap out of your thoughts, and you hear him tell her, “Don’t forget the position you need to fill.”

Maybe it’s the nerves, but you want to laugh as Naomi takes something from his hand. “I could never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping the incorporation of the dialogue here wasn't awkward. I ended up cutting out some of it but still wanted to keep what I kept? Let me know if anything!
> 
> Ah, one step closer to the fun stuff~


	54. Chapter 54

You’re in that other city again. You know it first by the smell of smog and then by your surroundings. One glance up at the trees, at the sky caught between blue and orange, tells you this is the place where you and Emi played with the leaves.

There are pops and whirrs and light behind you, and you turn to see Mika, Ren, and Emi there beside each other. Aya (still) sits a distance away. But there are other creatures too. They seem familiar to you, less by appearance and more by feel, ones who ate a meal or two with you once. One of them looks like Mika. Another, you think battled in this very city. There’s one with a bushy tail and a single stick of metal like the creature you played with however long ago.

But that one looks new, even if you don’t think he’s new at all. It takes the sight of Kenneth sitting next to Naomi for it to click. This large, winged, orange-again creature must be James. It doesn’t feel right to see him look different again, and you’re not sure why. It might have something to do with Kenneth and battles, like maybe the two of them don’t quite mix. How familiar.

It’s Emi who distracts you from James and Kenneth and battling. She bolts toward Naomi and Kenneth, settling herself between them and nosing his hand for attention like always. She’s not going to pull herself away just to play with leaves again.

So you turn to the others: to Ren flitting around the one with the bushy tail; to Mika glaring at James while he settles in the grass, sweeping her tail; to Aya likely glaring at everyone through her goggles, clawing the dirt—

“Aya!” Naomi shouts, loud and sudden enough that you jump.

Aya stops, but she doesn’t look at Naomi until she calls her again. You wonder, bitterly, if it’d be better if Aya just left.

“Get over here! Before you attack someone…”

Her blue nose twitches. As she turns, it feels like she locks eyes with you—either deliberately or because you happened to be in her line of sight, you don’t know—and she makes her way toward Naomi. She settles in the grass a ways away from her, and from everyone else, like usual.

She might prefer leaving, and maybe that would be for the best for her. But for now, she’s here—you’re all here, and as far as you know, there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch her dig up the grass and eat the dirt for a moment, as if she’ll successfully run away and change your mind. But she just eats. So you turn back to the others. 

It’s Mika you go to, mostly because she’s still staring down James. You warble at her and get her attention, but her tail doesn’t still until you go up to James and warble at him. His head’s at least half as big as you are now, and it’s strange to think back on the time you rammed your head into his jaw so hard that he squealed. It’s a funny sound to imagine coming from the large creature that he is now, gently grumbling at the two of you. That’s when Mika comes up to him, sniffs him, and finally stops bristling.

Maybe James would play with falling leaves with you—but he shuts his eyes and just lies there. Maybe the others, then. Ren and the not-strangers are already playing with floating blades of grass and leaves and twigs, so you go over to them without another thought. Mika’s rustling footsteps follow you.

Ren and the one who reminds you of that woman are the ones keeping things afloat, while the others walk through it all or poke at twigs. It’s only when the air shifts uncomfortably and Mika’s double fetches a twig that goes flying, that the six of you come up with a proper game. Ren and your reminder stay behind taking turns tossing twigs, while the four of you chase after them.

They’re too fast for you to keep up with. Mika keeps a steady lead on you all, and while the others lag behind her, you can’t really catch up to them either. Three twigs later and you still haven’t managed to keep pace with them, but now you have a plan. All you need to do is wait close to where Naomi and Emi are. You have a decent vantage point there.

That’s when you hear Naomi saying, “Bus leaves at nine forty-five. So we’ll probably be in Saffron by noon.”

No, focus. You’ll use water to catch the twig and that’s easy enough. But irritation, fear, nerves, something seizes you for a moment, and you think back to that woman. “And then Sabrina?” Kenneth asks.

“And then Bree…”

This is similar, though. Twigs instead of metal. Fresh air and greenery rather than a dark room dimly lit pink.

“You know,” he says, “if you don’t want to, you can—”

Heat flashes in your chest. “I _know_ , Kenneth,” she says, and you need to stop. You need to focus. Ren launches the twig.

It comes easily. Stronger than it needs to. The water flies from your fingertips, arcing over Mika and the other two, and slams the twig back toward Ren for another toss. He flutters there for a moment, stunned, maybe, and you jump and warble, laughter and pride bubbling in your chest. Thought it’s like the feeling isn’t solely yours, and you look over your shoulder at Naomi.

There’s a tiny smile on her face, and she’s pointing that rectangle at you, a light shining from it so brightly that you have to be careful not to look right at it. She laughs when you look at her too long. “I’m just recording, keep playing, Kyou.”

So you do. After that battle the other day, you deserve to, and she seems to feel the same way. So you go back to Ren and Mika and the others with no hesitation. But you wonder how long that feeling will last, and you wonder if maybe something did change your mind. Maybe it was her smile or her words just now, but you can’t shake the feeling, small as it is, that maybe there is something you can do.


	55. Chapter 55

Before the world forms, you wake with irritation and the feel of defeat lodged firmly in your thoughts. You understand why that is, once the white light dims to pink.

You’re here again, in the place where you changed, in the place where you felt like maybe things could be simpler. And there is that woman, pink eyes, clicking footsteps, and a face so similar to Naomi’s that you can’t figure out what it is about her that always seems to put Naomi in a bad mood.

Emi is quick to approach her, nudging her hand the way she demands everyone’s attention, and the woman wastes no time in indulging her. “Oh you must be the Emi that took care of Erika, yeah?” she coos.

Emi responds with a yip. You think back to the city you were just in.

The woman looks to the rest of you—at Mika and Ren and you, where her expression does a funny thing—and then looks back at Naomi. “Where’s Aya?”

“In her ball.” Naomi shrugs. She glances at Kenneth standing beside her, and you want to leave. She wants to leave. You can see it in the tiny way she frowns. “She’s not good with people so.”

“Ah.” The woman looks back at you with the same frown. “And, Kyou?”

Your legs twitch. “What about him?”

She opens her mouth, but then she freezes. Shakes her head with a tiny smile. She turns back to Naomi and asks, “Were you planning on using him?”

It’s something she shouldn’t have asked. Your heart pounds, and when you look to Naomi again, she’s frowning more and her arms are crossed. “He did fine against Koga and he’ll do fine against you.”

The woman sighs and looks at you again for a second, long enough for you to see that she doesn’t believe her. “Alright. You’re his trainer.”

Maybe you can understand a little better why Naomi finds her so bothersome. “What, five badges isn’t enough, I have to have a fully-evolved starter to battle you too?” she says quietly.

“Naomi, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s what you’re thinking,” she spits, and you need to stop, again. You look away from them to the others: at Emi who approaches them with her ears back and her tails low, at Ren who watches them carefully, and at Mika whose tail sweeps back and forth.

The woman huffs. “Can we just—talk, for a bit? Kenneth, I’m sorry, I feel like you always get caught up in our squabbles.”

“It-it’s fine.”

No. You need. To stop. You turn away, and you spot someone else here, another of those yellow metal-holders, hovering over the center of the room. If the others are going to be too concerned with the woman and Naomi, you can busy yourself with this creature instead.

He doesn’t stir as you approach him, sitting peacefully in the air, a single piece of metal hovering perfectly still in front of him. He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the talking, not by Kenneth’s occasional stammer or Naomi’s grumbles or what are presumably the woman’s attempts at maintaining a positive conversation—but you’re not supposed to be paying attention.

You get close enough to him that you could pull the metal out of the air, and still he hasn’t stirred. You warble at him. But nothing. So you warble again.

“Oh, Edward!” the woman calls. His ear twitches. “Don’t be rude, if he wants to play, play with him.”

He peers past you, and then at you. What you see in his narrow eyes is far from the playfulness you’ve seen in Emi’s or Mika’s or Ren’s eyes, or even in those of Kenneth’s creatures.

He turns his back on you.

Before him, at end of the field, appear three floating, round, pink screens. He takes the metal in his hand, aims it at one, and fires three beams of energy from it, shattering the screens and making them disappear in flashes of pink and white.

He glances at you, maybe even glares at you, before doing it again, this time with five screens. And then eight. And if this is his idea of a game, it’s not a very fun one when he doesn’t give you a chance to participate. Ten screens pop up this time, and with the simmer that you hear in Naomi’s voice and feel in your veins (she’s talking about you, but you’re not supposed to be listening), you muscle your way in.

He pauses his attacks when you strike one down with water, long enough to definitely glare at you, but rapid fires five shots before you realize this is a race now. You only have enough time to shoot down two more before they’re all gone.

Fifteen screens, and she’s louder now, without even saying anything. It’s just the woman who’s talking, too quietly for you to make out any words over the sounds of water, shatters, and energy.

It comes to a head once all the screens have fallen and Naomi says, “If I think I’m ready to battle you, then I should get to battle you!”

It’s shaky, the way she says it, the way it resonates with something within you, but it’s fierce in its own way. Behind it is some messy, tangled knot of feelings and thoughts that make your heart race and your eyes sting.

And there’s light.

It’s energy, coursing through every part of you once again, but it feels like anger, and fear, and hate, and more, and you feel it all in two places. You feel it in the center of your chest, where your heart squeezes and your lungs quicken and it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room or enough space for you to be here. And you feel it in your head, where you realize _you’re_ not the one who feels like this.

You want peace.

“Bree!” Naomi shouts. The light fades. The heat in your body pulses.

You’re bigger now. Heavier. You test your legs, take a half step this way, turn that way, and the motion ripples through you. The fur on your ears and tail is gone. There are cannons in your back now, and they clunk into place when you slide them out of your shell with ease. They make you think of strength. Of safety. Of simplicity.

“Gods, fine if you—” Your breath shudders. Your chest stings, and you wonder…

“Naomi, I did _not_ —”

“No, you wanted him to evolve so you just—”

“ _I did not_ —”

Flashes of red, and you finally look, only to see the other three getting called back into their spheres.

You know what’s going to happen.

“Let’s just get it over with,” Naomi says, stuffing the spheres back her bag. She storms over to one end of the field shouting, “I met all your requirements now, right? So let’s go.”

“Could you listen to me for one second?” the woman yells.

“I _have_!”

She’ll pit you against her. She doesn’t need to call for you, doesn’t even need to look at you, for you to know it. It’s as certain as the heat and sorrow in your chest, even as certain as that pinprick of betrayal that she feels. But you’ll stand here. You take your place before her and watch as Kenneth takes a seat, and the woman and her creature take their place opposite you. You want to do this much for her, at least.

This is your choice.

You don’t know where the calm comes from. It must be something you find within yourself, because it certainly doesn’t come from Naomi. It doesn’t come from the room, its air thick and tense. It comes from knowledge, perhaps. The certainty of your decision. That you will give all you can here, and then…

“Drag him forward with Surf!”

“Light Screen!”

You don’t need the words. You know what she wants before she says it. You’ve always known, you realize. It’s not instinct, though sometimes it feels like it, a constant presence in your mind that tells you how to act and how to move—like the feeling now, in your muscles, pulling water out of the air without ever really being shown _how_ to do it, just that you could. What Naomi showed you was how to be better, how to be stronger and safer. You owe that to her.

Waves rush toward your opponent and slam into an invisible wall right in front of him, beside him, around him, until the water pushes him off his feet and pulls him toward you.

“Bite!”

“Psybeam!”

He’s still caught in the waters when he fires that beam of energy at you now, swirling pink and purple and striking you right in the chest but you don’t pay it much mind. Energy gathers around your teeth and you sink them into his arm and he screams (your leg, you remember, screaming and burning and—)

Red light takes him away.

Heat. A smile. Vindication.

White light brings out Lorene, if you remember her name correctly. She played with you once. She mimed invisible walls for you to shoot and tackle, yes, but she played with you, properly. You chased after her. And you suppose that’s still what this is. A game involving blows and closed distances, just not in a fun way.

This game plays just like the last battle, so similarly it feels like a dance—like leaves, and fire in the air. It’s water and energy again, but it stirs the air into something more peaceful—like pools of water at your feet. You send her into the red light with your teeth.

Then Max appears, and he isn’t here to spin sticks of metal like this is just a game. But rather than ache for that simple joy, you accept the calm in your chest, and you know that it is yours. You know because you feel in your head, you hear in Naomi’s voice, you feel in the air—her anger; her frustration; her need for things she doesn’t want to want; and you know these as intimately as you know your own thoughts, definite at times, nebulous at others, but always with you. 

You’ll do this much, and maybe, hopefully, she’ll understand you wish her the best.

“Let’s make this quick,” Naomi tells you, and you know. You agree.

“Calm Mind.”

Max raises the metal in his hands. The air stirs, and quiets. But still there is Naomi in the back of your mind like a tremor, an angry, anxious, desperate thought that you could never soothe; that’s something she needs to settle herself.

“Surf! And get close!”

The water roars overhead, in your ears, at your feet. It lifts you and carries you on a wave larger than any you’ve created before. The water reaches him before you do, slams him back and pulls him under.

“Psychic!”

You hang over him at the crest of the wave, cannons angled down at him, water bursting forth—

There’s a moment.

When he hits you (When Max hits you? When the air hits you? When something hits you. It’s like Naomi, hard to find, hard to define, but there. Undoubtedly present), there’s a moment of clarity. When it passes, you know it was brief. But in that moment, it seems to last, like a dream.

It’s a moment where you think that maybe, she needs this. And you need this. And maybe they all need this. And you don’t know how that could be, or why, but you have that thought. And it stays.

Anger, anxiety, desperation, everything comes flooding back to you with a growl, with a pounding headache, with the woman calling something out, and disbelief.

And you wonder how you will tell her.

You wonder, and you worry, ( _maybe_ you’re the one who worries,) and it isn’t until Naomi places a hand on your shell and smiles at you that you pull yourself out of your head.

“Thank you, Kyou.”

You warble at her, the sound now a deep rumble in your throat.

She has your sphere in her hand.

She turns away from you and says, with an edge to her voice and her thoughts, “So was that good enough?”

The woman sighs. Her footsteps click toward the two of you. “Yeah,” she grunts. “Mom and Dad won’t be too happy about missing the battle, though.”

Naomi shrugs. Her fingers fold around the sphere like she’s going to enlarge it and call you into it. So you move.

You shift enough to startle her into loosening her hold on it. “What is it, Kyou?” She doesn’t fight you when you take the sphere from her. “Uh… Kyou?” It feels warm.

The woman’s footsteps stop, right next to you. Part of you— Naomi, maybe—expects her to say something. But she stays quiet. When you look at her, she has her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pulled into a tiny frown, and she looks just like Naomi. Older, and so much like her.

You hope this will be okay.

You turn back to Naomi and press your head against hers with one last warble. You’re taller than her now. Not by much at all, but taller.

You step to Sabrina’s side, with the sphere still in your hand. You don’t look at either of them.

Stillness.

And like a dream again, it feels longer than it is.

“Kyou?” Naomi asks you, with a voice much quieter, much more afraid than you’ve ever heard from her before.

She wants you to go back to her side. To step away from the woman, at least. To put the sphere back in her hands. But you can’t. You won’t. So when she takes a step toward you, you take a step back and turn toward the woman, eyes still on the sphere in your hands. That is when it happens.

That is when everything from earlier—from the battle, from your changes both today and however long ago, even the nerves and the fear she felt when you first met her— It all comes back again. It fades in, and then it spikes, and then it’s heat again. It’s anger again. Betrayal again. But none of it is directed at you. And you’re thankful for that. You don’t want to hurt her.

Naomi huffs, and backs away, and you look up to see the way she’s glaring at the woman. Wry smile, brow drawn, and her eyes, narrow and brown, gleaming in dim pink light. Corners crinkled with resentment. “It’s always you,” she scoffs, or laughs.

“Naomi—”

She starts to turn away, and you don’t _want_ to see her go but… “You can never let me—”

The woman reaches for her. “Wait, come on, Max can—” Grabs her wrist.

But Naomi yanks her arm back and sneers. You’ve never seen her look like that before. “Fuck off, Bree.”

She turns. She walks. She runs out. Part of you wants to follow.

But you choose to stay.

There’s a moment, where nothing seems to be here. There is silence, and stillness, and the air feels thick. There is uncertainty, and it’s almost like none of you want to break the moment. Not you, nor the woman, nor Kenneth.

As if everything will undo itself if none of you do anything.

But you know how false that is.

(Just before the stillness breaks, you have that moment of clarity again; you know that she’ll figure that out.)

Kenneth is the one who moves, who stands and says, “I’m gonna go talk to her.” His voice rings loud enough to make the woman flinch. You watch as he runs out.

It hurts to remember her sneer and everything she felt, even if none of it was meant for you. But you chose. And you’re hopeful that she will too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I have been waiting since Pewter to get to this part holy shit._ I sowed the seeds over a year ago and now finally I get to reap the harvest… I never even meant for Kyou to get so frazzled and distrustful specifically as a result of the battle against Brock but wow if it didn't work well.
> 
> So uh. Yeah. Kyou, my starter, of course, was my first death, and I did in fact lose him to Sabrina's Alakazam. If it's any consolation, it was unavoidable. I can't be too upset about it though because it's like this death was tailor-made for this run; if there was anything that was going to get Naomi off her ass, it was gonna be her starter leaving her team due in part to her sister. Also, the fact that this death happened against Sabrina of all people is the reason I decided not to interpret in-game deaths as in-story deaths. That would've irreparably damaged Naomi and Sabrina's already fragile relationship.
> 
> So uh, yeah, how're you guys doing? :')


	56. Chapter 56 — She

There’s a park ten minutes west of the gym (though she makes it there in less than five, at a run) that Naomi used to hate as a child. It’s a beautiful park, but the trees did nothing for springtime allergies that were at their worst during her childhood. Now, though, the park is a comfort. A place to run to and be alone and look out at Saffron 230 feet below, a sprawling web of lights that she has to call home.

She’s already cried. Sat atop a decades-old stone parapet, alone save for the hazy glow of yellow street lamps and the chill, late-October air, she cried quietly, as if anyone was around to hear her.

She watches the city, one leg up on the parapet, knee raised for her cheek to rest on, and one Poké Ball in her hand: Mika’s. Because if she had to say which of her Pokémon would be least likely to leave her, Mika is her best guess. Ren would easily wander off, Emi would be happy with anyone who could give her better head scratches, and Aya, well…

She sniffles from time to time, more from the cold than from her thoughts. But sometimes her thoughts do raise their voices enough to make her eyes sting again. There are a lot of them, all woven together so seamlessly that each has the underpinnings of all the others, though she's managed to file them under separate categories. They’re numerous and redundant categories, but they help her sort her emotions. She rarely uses them to come up with solutions or even act, however. And she knows it. She knows it well. Now is one of those times when she hates herself for it.

She thinks of what she should’ve done. Should’ve paid Kyou more attention. Let him out of his ball more often. Played with him more. Trained him like it was a game… Should she have listened to Bree about that, when she should have refused her months and months ago, maybe almost a year ago, when she told her to take over the gym?

She snorts. It’s like she listens when she shouldn’t, and when she works up the nerve to choose for herself, it’s in the moments when she should listen. What’s the point, then?

Footsteps.

She looks to her left, past the benches and at the steps leading to the overlook, and she expands Mika’s ball. Her thoughts empty. Her body tenses. And she watches.

She can’t decide if she should be mad when Kenneth steps into view. She figures she shouldn’t be when he locks eyes with her.

“Hey,” he says, breathless from the climb. He never could make it up here without getting winded.

She looks back over the city, closes her fingers around Mika’s ball and makes it smaller. “How’d you find me?” she asks, but she knows.

“Where else would you run.”

He sits across from her on the parapet and mirrors her posture aside from her hands. He folds his own over his knee and rests his chin on them, and she can tell from the corner of her eye that he’s watching _her_ , not the city like she is.

He doesn’t say anything. And she sure as hell isn’t going to.

She remembers the first time he met her parents, a summer when they were fourteen or fifteen, she can’t remember, when she told him she hated her parents, in that way teenagers are wont to do, and he stayed silent. He didn’t say anything about his parents until she asked.

He’s the one who asks now. “What’re you thinking?” he says, like she’s capable of putting years’ worth of frustrations, some that seem irrelevant to Kyou but absolutely aren’t, into sensible words.

So she snorts and smirks and doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know where she could possibly start.

He doesn’t push her. It’s the reason she answers, after a pensive, wordless minute, “I’m thinking… I’m not… good enough.”

He takes a moment, like maybe she’ll elaborate without being prompted, but she knows he knows better. “For?”

She scoffs. “Everyone. No one thinks I’m good enough. Not Bree, not Koga or Surge or Misty, not Kyou, probably not even you, and definitely not me—”

“When did I say you weren’t good enough?”

He sounds offended but she doesn’t care. He doesn’t have the right to be when he’s acting like she’s wrong about this. She raises an eyebrow at him. “My half-assed training?”

He sighs, and it’s that frustrated, almost disappointed sigh he gives people when he’s annoyed but trying to keep his patience. “That doesn’t mean I think you’re not good enough.”

“Right.” She looks back to the city.

“Naomi.”

“I mean, you were right anyway so.”

He doesn’t say anything, so she figures she wins. She’s right about what he and everyone else think of her and for her reward, she gets to sulk at the skyline and feel all vindicated. Lovely.

In the corner of her eye, he turns toward the city, and he says, “Don’t say I think you’re not good enough, okay? ‘Cause it’s not true.”

She wants to dismiss him, to contradict anything nice he has to say to her—but if he of all people is going to tell her she's wrong about this, then she has to believe him, right? And if that really is the case, then she’s glad to be wrong.

Her thoughts ease. For now, at least. She knows they’ll claw at her again when she goes to bed tonight, but for now, they quiet. She thinks instead of Kenneth and the shadows he stands in, those of his grandfather and of his parents despite their absence. She thinks of how, in a way, he embraced their legacy rather than resigned himself to it. How he’s chosen to walk along in their footsteps but only for now and only for as long as he wants to.

She’s proud of him, but she wishes she could feel just as free to leave behind her family’s desires for her.

“You don’t feel locked in?” she asks, quietly enough that she’s not sure he can hear her. She’s not sure she’d repeat herself if he doesn’t.

“Locked in?”

“To research. Ecology, or… whatever it is that your parents do.”

He snorts. “I’ll do something else if I decide I don’t like it. For now, I don’t mind. Even if…”

She looks at him. He’s frowning at the city. And she wants to laugh, because here they are, both feeling the pressure of their families on their shoulders, but he’s always handled it so much better than she can. “If?” she asks, but she knows.

He shrugs. “Expectations.”

There’s something else she wants to ask, but it feels like such a stupid question. How to choose and how to be. How to stand but not be obstinate. How not to crumble the way she does sometimes. She asks anyway, but not without ducking her head and hiding behind her knee. “How do you not let them get to you?”

“Try to remember that things like this should be for you, I guess? On the days that you can.”

It’s frustrating. How simple it sounds. How useless she feels for being unable to do even that. “Why’s that so hard to do…”

“Wish I knew,” he whispers.

She imagines what it must feel like, to be free from expectations, shadows, norms. Free to just _be_ and she asks, “You ever wish you could run away?”

He laughs. The sound is soft, breathy, and comforting in its empathy. “Who doesn’t.”

She smiles at the city. “I’d go to like... a tropical island in the middle of nowhere. Be on the beach all day, live off fish and grow my own tea.”

“Surprised you didn’t mention tea first.”

"Nah, unfortunately I can't live off tea alone."

He hums, and says softly, “We could be farmers together.”

She’d be quicker to tease him or make some comment about his words, but his tone gives her pause. There’s something about it that she can’t place, that pulls her gaze from the city. She considers him for a moment, but she can only see him in profile, half of a neutral expression that she can’t take anything away from. So she continues cheekily, “You’re already Oak’s ranch hand, it would suit you.”

He shakes his head, but his smile widens. “I just help out.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what a ranch hand does,” she laughs. She turns back to the city. “So it works out perfectly, we’ll have our own little farm together, away from everyone else—it’d be nice.”

“Yeah…” he says, and there’s that tone again. She glances at him only to find him looking at her. That smile is still on his face, smaller now, but there. Smiling back at him is more a reflex than anything else, and she looks at the city again.

His gaze stays on her, and the more aware of it she is, of it poking her in the shoulder or in the neck, the worse it feels. As if he’s… disappointed? She remembers the whole reason they’re even up here to begin with: Kyou leaving and her not being good enough and she’s doing what she always does, refusing to face things or running away when she should be doing something. Is that what he’s thinking, staring her down and hoping she gets that message so he doesn’t have to say it?

She turns to him. “What?” she asks, but her voice falters, maybe not noticeably but enough to soften any edge she wanted to deliver.

His eyes widen. Did she startle him? He shakes his head and—is that shyness in his smile? Were none of those things going through his head at all? “Nothing, I was… just thinking about it.”

Oh.

He glances at her, with something soft and vulnerable that reminds her of visits and video calls and time spent together, of her old best friend from years ago, of things she said to Emi the night she evolved. She doesn’t know why. She doesn't even know if he’s looked at her like this before. But she does know that at the core of it is something good, something more than just happy that she’s never known how to describe.

It’s hard to know what to make of it, though, and harder to contemplate something nice considering why they’re even having this conversation. She sighs. She’s still holding Mika’s Poké Ball in her hand. She runs her thumb over its smooth surface and stares at the button in its center. “I’m not saying I’m running away…” Though she wants to.

“I know.”

“I just…” She sighs. There are too many things that she wants to say. She doesn’t even know how to. “I dunno…”

He gets up. He’s going to drag her away from here, maybe back to the gym because she _did_ say she wasn’t running away. But that doesn’t mean she wants to deal with it _now_. Maybe tomorrow or the day after that, when it doesn’t all hurt so much and she maybe hates herself a little less, but right now—

“How about we get some tea?” He’s smiling sweetly, if a little sadly. “My treat.”

“Really?” she asks quietly.

He nods toward the steps and walks away. “Yeah, come on.”

She straightens, but she doesn’t get up until he pauses under the streetlamp to wait for her. She tucks Mika’s ball into her bag and goes up to him, her eyes on the ground and her hands around her elbows. He stays still even as she gets closer, so she stops in front him. She doesn't feel like meeting his gaze.

“Or we can stay and actually talk if you want,” he says gently.

She shakes her head. Distractions are good. Plus, well, free tea.

It’s not like he stops short of moving or saying anything, but she can feel the pause before he steps forward and hugs her. He’s warm, and so easy to hug back and cling to that it makes her eyes sting when she does, but she can’t cry again. She can think of other nice things, right? Of the tea that’ll be in her hands in a few minutes or… Or…

She sniffs. “Um,” she starts, because she’ll cry again if she stays quiet any longer. “Thanks for finding me.”

He squeezes her, and she hides her face in his shoulder. “Of course.”


	57. Chapter 57

Naomi glances at you with the words in her eyes. _Leave me alone, Jojo…_ like this is three years ago all over again. She’s doing the same thing, waiting for the apartment to be empty to curl up on the couch, bury her nose in her phone, and sit there until people come home. At least this isn’t over her best friend moving away again, though Kenneth left for Celadon last night—for work, if you remember correctly. Her aura isn’t as sorrowful or as lost as it was back then, but it’s still dull. It seems betrayed. It seems powerless, and with how often her aura exudes that, you know she wrongly believes it.

It’s frustrating. You hover before her between the couch and the coffee table, legs crossed and hands pressed together, and you frown. But she’s never been afraid to brush you off, and you know she knows what you’re trying to tell her. “Leave me alone, Jojo,” she finally says, voice barely above a whisper. Her aura stays the same; not even the slightest bit of annoyance flares up, like she wants you to stay and fuss over her. She goes back to her phone, playing a Zelda game, judging by the pixelated character she’s moving around, that she’s already buried herself in for hours.

She needs to get up. She’s not one for meditating, unfortunately, but you can treat her to a spar like usual. You just have to get her off the couch, out of her pajamas, and outside which… well, will probably be difficult, but.

You grunt to get her attention.

The corner of her mouth twitches.

You grunt again.

She leans her head toward you and raises an eyebrow at you. Her aura hums with something tired and lonesome and pleading.

Ah.

She won’t take it, but you punch at the air once to ask if she wants to go to the dojo.

She answers with a defeated sigh and turns back to her game. Her aura buzzes densely, all the negatives a bit worse now. “Just let me be a shitty person,” she mutters.

_No_ , is what you want to tell her, to say that she’s bright, kind, persistent, and an excellent friend, even though you know she’d dismiss you. But you can’t say that with words, so the best you can do is place a hand on her arm and hope she won’t shrug you off.

She doesn’t. She smiles sadly at her phone, bittersweetness rolling over her aura. Her eyes look watery when she glances at you. “You’re so spindly,” she says. “I could’ve cried on your shoulder otherwise.”

She still can. She must know that. But she’s never been one to cry when anyone else could see or hear or feel it. Even her aura seems to muffle itself when she does cry at home, safely behind her bedroom door or the shower curtains. Does she know she does that? Does she know it doesn’t stop you from feeling her heartache?

You lower yourself onto the couch and sit cross-legged behind her, your back to hers, where you can keep her company but still allow her a little privacy. If she does cry, she’ll do so quietly and while you can’t see, but you’ll be here.

Her aura lightens, though. It still buzzes, sad and powerless, but it doesn’t get worse.

You sit quietly, and you listen. To the adventurous chiptune music and sound effects ringing from her phone. To her aura humming through your head, bouncing up and down every now and then when the game lets go of her attention. To the sound of her breath, slow, even, and hard to hear over the game. To the sound of your own breath. You can feel her heartbeat against your back, and you breathe in with it, 1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8, 9-10. And breathe out just the same.

You tried to teach her to do this three years ago. To sit. To be still. To breathe.

But she scowled and complained—about meditating, about her best friend leaving her, about high school and loneliness and maybe anything else she could think to complain about—and her aura flared, frustrated and cold, with an intensity you’d never felt from her before. Aimi told you it partly had to do with growing up, but even now you don’t understand.

It reminds you a little of when Haru tried to teach her to speak the way he does, in minds with thoughts and images and feelings. Telepathy is so much more specific than reading auras and so much clearer than human words. Years of Aimi’s companionship as well as that of her family have taught you enough of their language, but it’s never so detailed, so layered, so _complete_ as when Haru speaks to your thoughts. Are there nuances that can reach your mind that never reach your ears? Would you understand Naomi better if she could speak that way? If you had more to go off than her words and her aura and the faint buzz of her thoughts telling you what you can already read and extrapolate for yourself?

What was it that had happened, anyway? Haru failed to teach her as a child, both of them equally frustrated with each other and with her struggle to learn, and then... they gave up? Haru decided her telepathy was weak enough to leave alone without consequence, you remember that very specifically. But if he had tried to teach her again, and been more patient...

Naomi’s phone trills. A text message. In the seconds that it takes for her to pause and silence the game and read the text, her aura goes from coolly calm to heated and tumultuous. The message undoubtedly has something to do with Sabrina, and considering what has Naomi in this mood, it might concern the Pokémon that chose to stay behind too.

She scoffs. “I know he’s not coming back,” she mutters. The keys clack as she types, and her reply sends with a blip. “I told her not to fucking try, I don’t know why she bothered…”

You lean against her back, pushing her gently. The room stays silent save for the clear sound of her breaths leaving her nose like hisses. Her heart beats harder and quicker against your back.

Then her aura shifts, longing and confused, and soon the keys start clacking. She wants to leave again. And with a team all her own and unwanted badges to collect, she can leave whenever she wants. Tonight, or now, even, though Aimi asked you to keep an eye on her today. But you know the most you can do to help Naomi would be to let her leave.

Her phone makes a different sound, the one that means she received a message from Kenneth. The keys start clacking barely a heartbeat later. She sends her reply, and she tells you, “I’m gonna go to Celadon tonight. Stay with Kenneth for a bit.” Yes, because, “I don’t like being home…”

You lean against her again. She’s most comfortable here when Haru and Aimi—and Sabrina, before she moved out—aren’t home. Would that also be different if Haru had taken the time to teach her properly?

This time, she leans back. “Thanks, Jojo,” she whispers.


	58. Chapter 58 — She

Naomi spends the next few days in Celadon, holed up in Kenneth’s guest bedroom like it’s her living room. It’s a comforting place to be while he’s out at the labs. Spacious. Quiet. No one around to tell her to get out of bed or eat or shower or get some fresh air.

She spends her mornings in the guest bedroom, dark save for the sunlight peeking in around the edges of thick, dark curtains and the glow of her phone. She spends hours half-heartedly playing A Link to the Past, tracing a familiar web of thoughts over and over again. It starts with Kyou, then Bree, then her parents, Jojo, Kenneth. It cuts to this house, to Celadon and Saffron and Pallet. Then she thinks of Oak, Kenneth, Bree, her parents, Jojo, herself, and starts again from the top.

To her credit, because she figures she should grant herself _something_ , she doesn’t cry about it. Sometimes her eyes sting, though, at the thought that she’ll never be good for anything and that she’ll never know what to do or what she wants to do. What an annoyingly old fear. She should be jaded by now.

She’s already made a habit of staying in bed past noon, only dragging herself downstairs in time for Kenneth to get home. Sometimes she pokes her head into the kitchen and grabs something small to eat. A slice of bread with butter, maybe, or a bit of rice that Kenneth leaves for her from his own breakfast.

Today, she doesn’t. She passes the kitchen without a glance toward it, grabs the throw on the armchair, wraps herself in it, grabs the television remote, and slumps down on the couch, curled up against the armrest. She changes the channel to a sitcom in the hopes that it’ll lift her mood, even though she knows it won’t do much. The best she can manage is a shallow smile when something funny moves her. If a smile like that counts for anything at all, she can say she tried.

She doesn’t stir when she hears Kenneth’s keys jingling half an episode later. Just pulls the blanket tighter around herself when he enters and lets the cold air in.

“Hey,” he says. Too loudly. Already she wants back the quiet of a murmuring television and emptiness.

She doesn’t look at him. It’s too much energy to turn her head. Way too much energy to drag herself back upstairs, but she considers it despite the fact that she came down here in some half-assed attempt (half-assed, always half-assed) to seem okay. Or somewhat okay. Or at least not-awful.

He shudders as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket. “It’s getting cold.”

“I can tell…”

He sets his keys on the end table, drops his jacket on the armchair, and sits next to her. Close. Which normally she’d appreciate, but right now she’d prefer the world stay an arm’s length from her. “What’ve you been up to?” he asks.

And he asks with a tone she’s very familiar with, one she’s become even more familiar with over the past few days. It’s careful. Overly gentle. Tries to sound neutral but actually comes off prying. And when she can tell that he’s asking with the hope that she’s doing better today despite knowing that she isn’t, it’s just annoying to hear.

She wants him to leave her alone (wants everyone to leave her alone, especially herself) (but then there’s this quieter, more vulnerable part of herself that wants him to stay, to soothe her, to say everything will be okay and magically fix things with those words)—

She pulls the blanket tighter over herself, tugs it just over her ear like that would block him out, isolating enough to be comforting. “Not much.”

He doesn’t respond.

Her thoughts stir again.

They follow a different path now, primarily concerned with him and disappointment. Of him being disappointed in her. Of her own disappointment in herself. Of his parents and how he’s disappointed in them. Of her own parents and how they’re probably disappointed in her. (They’ve called her several times over the past few days. She hasn’t answered a single call. Only replied hours later with a text so they at least wouldn’t think something happened to her.) Of what he’d think if he knew what she’s been thinking all this time. But as much as she wants to say that he’d be mad at her, annoyed with her, that he’d scoff and roll his eyes and tell her to stop being a whiny bitch and get off her ass because that’s half of everything she’s been thinking—she knows he wouldn’t. He’d hear her out. Try to help.

She’s not sure which would be more unbearable.

“So… I found out we’re gonna be going to Cinnabar soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Probably in less than a week…”

Ah. She can tell where this is going. She doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Are you…” he starts.

She pulls the blanket tighter around herself. Hopes it gets the message across that no, she doesn’t know what she’s going to do any time soon, wishes she knew what she was going to do so she wouldn’t just end up squatting at his place while he leaves her to go do stuff and be useful on an island so far away from her when she needs him to be around even though she doesn’t want (to need) him around.

The blanket thing must’ve worked. He doesn’t finish his question. Instead, he asks, “Do you want something to eat?”

She doesn’t. She knows she should. It’s well past noon now and she still hasn’t eaten. She shrugs.

He stares at her. She can feel him staring at her, an itch in her shoulder that makes her want to curl up more against the armrest, pull the blanket straight over her head, or look him dead in the eye and tell him to stop.

She doesn’t do anything.

Then comes his quiet, “Did you eat anything earlier?”

She ducks her head. Tugs the blanket over her chin. Doesn’t say anything.

He squeezes her arm and brushes his thumb over her. It almost makes her turn into him and hide in his chest from everything.

“I have some fish in the fridge.” His voice is so gentle, it’s frustrating. He should be yelling at her. She’d be yelling at herself. (Some tiny, merciful part of herself reminds her that if this was the other way around, she wouldn’t yell at him, either. But the other part of herself tells her he’s much more deserving of patience and understanding than she is anyway.) “Would that be fine? With rice? And some tea?”

But he’s being gentle. And even if she doesn’t think he should be, she can’t turn him away. “Okay…” 

He squeezes her arm again and gets up, and immediately she both wants his warmth back, and is grateful to have some space to herself again. She watches him go to the kitchen, and it’s like she can feel something again. Something heavy in her chest and itchy in her eyes.

She’s being a child. She’s sitting around waiting to be taken care of instead of doing it herself, and over what? A Pokémon not liking her? A gym being dropped in her lap, when Misty had to fight for hers? Being someone she doesn’t like, someone too afraid to act or even speak? She should be _doing_ something. But all she wants is to disappear and be left alone. No one to annoy or disappoint but herself that way.

She watches him as he sets the kettle on the stove and washes the rice. Vaguely wonders if maybe one day she should ask him to teach her how to cook.

She doesn’t know at what point she zones out while watching him. Doesn’t know what she spends all that time thinking about. Maybe about some future cooking lesson where she somehow burns the rice, or about him sitting next to her again. About their conversation at the overlook last week, running away to an island where they tend a cozy farm together and don’t have to worry about anything. She only comes to when he starts walking toward her, kettle, mugs, and honey in hand.

He pours out her cup of tea, complete with a scoop of honey, and tells her as he stirs, “Might be about half an hour before the food’s ready.”

He smiles at her before he goes back to the kitchen, some small, sad smile that she doesn’t deserve.

She moves this time. She’s not going to let the tea go to waste after he went through the trouble of making it. And it’s her favorite tea, too. He wouldn’t have made anything but matcha, just to make her feel a little better. She straightens on the couch and takes the cup, blessedly warm against her hands like this whole time she’s been colder than she thought she was. The steam is welcome on her face, the smell just sweet and promising enough that for a second she forgets everything and it’s just her, and warmth, and Kenneth in the kitchen, cozy and worry-free, here for the pleasure of being here and not because she wants to hide. A simple, peaceful, short-lived moment.

She’s gone through half her tea when Kenneth returns with food, one heaping bowl of rice and fish for himself, and a smaller one for her. “There’s more on the stove if you want,” he says, setting both dishes and two pairs of chopsticks on the coffee table.

He seats himself on the floor, tugs the coffee table closer, and starts eating. And she, for whatever reason, just watches him. All she can see of him is a three-quarter view of his back and the top of his head, and she feels, for a moment, like reaching out for him. Like playing with his hair or running her fingers through it, in some show of appreciation for him.

She looks at her tea and takes another sip. She shouldn’t let the food go to waste either.

She sets her mug on the coffee table, sits cross-legged beside him, her knee touching his leg, and wraps the blanket around herself so she can eat without it getting in her way.

They watch whatever show is playing on the television now, some ridiculous, Kantonian version of Unova’s Funniest, and eat in silence. The only sounds between them are the clicks of chopsticks against porcelain and the occasional chuckle from Kenneth.

She finishes her food when Kenneth’s over halfway through his. There are a few lone grains of rice on the sides of her bowl. Stubborn little things that she can’t grab no matter how hard she tries, and she’s not even sure why she’s trying. Just to have something to do, maybe. Something to focus on so she doesn’t get trapped in her thoughts again.

“Do you want more?” he suddenly asks.

She pauses. She would, actually. “Just some rice…”

He takes her bowl and gets up without another word. By the time she’s registered that he’s gone to get her more, he’s too far away for her to thank him without having to force her voice. But she feels almost shy when he comes back, like she should’ve gotten her own food, so it takes more effort than it should to say, “Thank you…”

“Yeah, no problem.” He smiles at her, gently enough that she can’t think anything cruel toward herself. “I’m glad you wanted more.”

She doesn’t finish all the rice, mostly because by the time Kenneth finishes eating and sits back against the couch, she just wants to sit back next to him. So she does, with the blanket drawn tightly around herself.

Something about this feels comfortable. The food in her stomach, the dishes on the coffee table, the fact that they’re sitting on the floor while the television drones on about whoever it is that’s making a fool of himself—it’s cozy. Safe, almost. Like maybe it’s okay to turn to him now, to talk.

She has to work up to it, though. To getting her voice to work without being overwhelmed by her thoughts, even though she knows it’s going to happen anyway. She rests her head on his shoulder, like the physical feel of him next to her will be all the support she needs. But she doesn’t know where to start. With the web of thoughts she’s had lately? With what she was thinking before he found her at the overlook last Saturday? With Kyou, or Bree, or her parents—no, not her parents, she can’t really complain to him about her parents, especially when _his_ parents didn’t even bother visiting on his birthday last Tuesday—

He rests his head against hers.

A little thing that quiets her thoughts. And the only way she can thank him is by hiding her face in his shoulder.

“I’m here,” he whispers.

She knows. 

She doesn’t say anything for ten minutes because she keeps trying to gather her thoughts and failing to put them into words, and she grows so frustrated that all she can do is ask his shoulder, “What do I do?”

He thinks on it for a moment. Careful as always. Sometimes she wishes she could be like that. “Well… Assuming you were in a state of mind where you could do anything, what would you want to do? Aside from running away to be a farmer on a tropical island.”

She hears the little smile in his voice. Can’t help but smile back. “I dunno…”

“Think on it.”

She sighs. She straightens herself out a little, enough so her face isn’t buried in his shoulder. But when an answer doesn’t immediately spring to mind, she curls up against him and pulls the blanket tighter. 

Maybe he thinks she’s about to start crying, because he whispers tenderly, “Here,” and puts his arm around her, and she _wasn’t_ going to cry but the gesture combined with her inability to answer makes her eyes sting.

“Um,” she starts, but her throat is tight and she has to swallow and take a second to make sure her voice won’t waver. “I mean… I-It’s too late to say anything to Bree… She’s supposed to leave for Unova by the end of the year…”

“What about on a smaller scale. Or, something more immediate?”

“I guess…” She clutches the blanket. Turns her face into his shoulder again. “I could… try to figure out if any of my other Pokémon want to leave too…” Her eyes sting. Never good enough.

She must’ve tensed considerably, because his arm tightens around her and he says, “It’s not anything personal, remember? Isn’t that what her Alakazam said? That Kyou left because he needed an environment that suited him better and not because he didn’t like you?”

Another way of saying she isn’t good enough. “Still…”

“Not ‘still,’” he sighs. “He just needed something different. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. And.” He shifts, turning so he’s facing her just a little more, like he wants her to look at him, but she won’t. Her eyes still sting and she curls up tighter against him. That might be why he sighs again. He tucks her hair behind her ear, but she squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to look at him or at anyone. “Let me remind you that regardless of how much exposure you may have had to training and all because of Sabrina, you’ve only been a trainer for a little over a month. And in that short amount of time, you’ve gotten six badges, including one from a gym leader who doesn’t like you and at least one other from a guy who can be a hard-ass. You can’t tell me that doesn’t count for anything.”

“I guess…”

He holds her. She wants to stay there, hidden in his shoulder, with his arms around her keeping the rest of the world out, offering her warmth and something like safety. He holds her tight and she wonders how he could think she’s not awful. Clings to him saying she’s not a bad person and tries desperately not to let herself dismiss his words.

She sniffs. Blinks back tears. Makes sure her voice will be steady, or at least steady enough, before she tells his shoulder, “I don’t know what I would do after, though…”

“After what?”

“After I… try to talk to my other Pokémon.” However she manages to do that. Would any of them understand what _Do you want to leave?_ means? Emi, maybe. But what about Ren, who couldn’t understand Bree? What about Mika?

At least she doesn’t have to wonder about Aya.

“You can play it by ear after that,” he says. He turns, and she can feel the curve beneath his lips against her head—and he hesitates. She doesn’t know why he hesitates, but she can feel it. “You just… have to keep moving. Which I get is hard but, even just a little…”

Can she do that? Keep moving, little by little if that’s what it takes? Even if she’s not sure how to? Even if she’s not sure what she wants to move toward?

She wants to ask, but it would sound like she’s just making excuses, wouldn’t it. It’s supposed to be doable, anyway. Right? And she can ask for his help if she needs it.

She takes a shaky breath and tries to let everything go with it, but her body stays tense. “Okay…”


	59. Chapter 59

More than anything else, you hear the quiet when you’re dragged out of sleep. The world is darker than usual, even behind the navy tint of whatever it is that the girl keeps over your eyes. But it’s not the darkness that’s comforting, or even familiar. It’s the quiet.

Is this home?

“Hey, Aya,” she says. Breathes, really.

Tiredness. It’d seep into your bones if your heart weren’t pounding at the possibility that maybe…

“Um…” Things rustle behind you. You turn to see her sitting on the ground, and to see light beyond her. Green behind her. Dark, claw-like things reaching toward a gray sky. All of it familiar, even the way the mouth of the cave frames it. Though it feels a little off. “You’re the only one I still need to ask,” she whispers. “But I figure I already know, so…”

This must be home.

You don’t think she’s looking at you. It’s hard to tell, with the way the light from outside casts her in a fuzzy shadow, but you’re pretty sure she’s staring at the floor. “I… I don’t want anyone to stay if they don’t want to. And… I can hope that you’ll stay like the others, and I can ask even if you might not really understand me but…”

It’s her tone, maybe, or something else, that buzzes in your head and urges you to settle yourself in a shallow burrow of dirt as if… you could stay.

“It’s weird… It’s not something people really talk about… Pokémon having a choice? You just catch them and find a way to make them fit on your team, or you find something else that fits.”

Could you stay if you want?

You look away from her, behind yourself, deeper into the cave. Dark and familiar, but it’s different being here. Like you don’t remember—how to get to your old territory, which tunnels you’re supposed to stay away from, who the aggressive ones are.

“Bree never said anything about anyone on her old team not wanting to stay…” She huffs. “I’m… doing it again…”

Do you belong here anymore? Could you even deal with the others here?

Of course you can. Why would you ever think you couldn’t?

She takes a breath. “Aya.” You look at her. She looks like she’s looking at you too. “I really hope you’ll understand me… If… I left you here for a while, and I came back in the morning… If you wanted to stay with me, would you meet me here tomorrow?”

You could stay. You could fight off any others, relearn how to navigate the tunnels, take back your territory. Your legs itch with the desire for it. For home. For a place familiar and normal and you think, for some reason, that you can have it now.

Or you could leave it behind. You could wait here for darkness to pass and for light to return and then, you think, you won’t ever see this place again.

She takes a shuddering breath and stands, and part of you wants to go up to her. You stay put instead.

She stomps one of her feet. “Here. Okay? Tomorrow morning, if you want to come with me. I’m… taking the afternoon ferry to Cinnabar, so…”

Your heart pounds. You don’t know why.

“Okay,” she breathes. She steps forward, takes the thing off your eyes, and the light from the outside hurts more now. It’s brighter, whiter now, like waking again. And then she turns. And she leaves.

You want to follow.

Twenty heartbeats later, fifty, a hundred, you still want to follow.

But the cave and its silence call you, and finally, you turn and walk into it.

It’s easy to slip back into. The give of dirt beneath your claws. The comforting press of soil around you as you burrow deep into the ground. The low rumble in the distance of others doing the same.

All of it familiar. But just a little bit off. Like you need to get used to it again. Like those first days you spent with the girl and Blue and Fuzz Ball and Red Eyes, and Curly after a while, where it took time but it started to feel normal. Their constant presence, buzzing somewhere around you but leaving you alone for the most part, like your kin in the dirt.

Here, though, you can only hear them. You can pinpoint where they are by how the earth sounds and the way it rumbles around you, shifting ever so slightly when any of you move.

Familiar, but off.

It’s worse when you tunnel into the wrong place. You feel it first. The presence of something big and aggressive. Instinct tells you to turn around and go in a different direction, maybe try to find your nest if you can.

But you want to fight.

You let the aggression lead you, feel the pulse in your muscles, the excitement, the desire. You can imagine it already, raking your claws over something’s face, and the girl isn’t here to stop you anymore and that’s fine.

It’s a nest that you break into, by the smell and the feel of it. Its occupant squeals at you, loud, high-pitched, uninvited, but she isn’t any match for you. You know it.

Two slashes across her body are all it takes to send her running out, handing her tiny nest and the tunnels leading to it over to you. But you don’t care much for it. What you want is a better opponent.

You burrow through countless tunnels and nests and nothing here is any match for you. And you wonder if the girl would be better for this. For things like that orange-and-yellow opponent, or that one with the spikes on its back, or all the other things she’s had you fight. They were all much better than everything you find here.

It isn’t until one of them sets you aglow that you think you’d rather go back. When energy fills you and spreads throughout you and then settles in your neck and at your shoulders until suddenly, everything you hear feels louder. Clearer. Three times as easy to pinpoint what you hear and where it is, and when you turn you can turn in three different directions at once, think three different thoughts at once, three times the input and it’s startling but clear and you realize—

This isn’t home anymore. It doesn’t give you want you need or what you want and you think understand the girl now and what she was saying. _Here_.

You go back, to the mouth of the cave, larger, stronger claws carrying you through the dirt more swiftly, and you hear all around you the sound of things moving away from you because they can feel it too, they know it too. They can do nothing to you, and that’s unexciting.

Past the mouth of the cave is darkness, but you know to wait for _morning_. For light and waking.

You sleep as you used to, for the first time in a long time, at the mouth of the cave.

The light wakes you as always, not-navy and so bright that you almost can’t make out the green and the things that reach for the sky, and you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And at some point, amidst the tripled thoughts in your heads you feel that she’s here. Your nerves buzz and you want, more than anything, in a way you never would’ve thought you _could_ want, to step outside and into the brightness but your eyes, all six of them—

She steps into the light, and she calls, “Aya?”

You walk toward her, but she steps back, stands there, breathes. “ _Aya_?” she says. She recognizes you.

You go up to her, and she crouches down, and she laughs in a way that is, somehow, nice to hear. Familiar. “You came back… And you evolved? You guys keep evolving without me, I guess I’m not actually cut out for this, huh?” Comforting. 

Maybe if she reached for you, you’d let her, but she doesn’t. Which is good, you still prefer it that way.

She shifts and pulls something out, holds it in her hands so the light from outside filters through it, navy and familiar and welcome. “I guess I’ll need to get two more of these for you.” She holds it up toward you. “Uh, can I?”

You step closer so she can put them over your eyes again, and while it bothers you to see blue in one set of eyes but not the other two, you know somehow that it won’t last long.

She tells you, “Thank you for coming back, Aya,” and pats your head for a moment. You don’t mind it.


	60. Chapter 60 — She

When the captain announces they’re fifteen minutes from Cinnabar, Naomi lets out a sigh of relief. It’s like being eight and bored at her grandparents’ house, staring through the television waiting to be told they’re going home. Or, well, more like lying around in a common room full of strangers on just a tatami mat, killing time on her phone while texting Kenneth and trying to ignore the pit in her stomach. She’s not sure where the pit comes from or why she feels like it should be gone now that she’s slipping her sneakers and letterman jacket back on. Maybe it’s just all the people and the noise and the way the boat rocked and how she didn’t sleep last night because she swore Aya wasn’t going to be there this morning and how she still doesn’t know why the others chose to stay and…

Honestly, she just wants to see Kenneth again. He makes the world slow down.

She tiptoes around the people on the floor. There’s too many of them. Which really shouldn’t bother her, she’s been pressed in by three times as many people just taking the train anywhere in Saffron. But something about _this_ feels suffocating. Whatever _this_ is. It’s not the people, or the boat, or going to Cinnabar, or her Pokemon or Kyou. She huffs as she finally reaches the door out of the room. She doesn’t know what it is, and it’s exhausting.

She’s probably just tired. What did she get, four, five hours of sleep last night? And she’s hungry. That’s probably mostly it.

The night air is colder and rougher than she expects. It sends her unbuttoned jacket flapping around her, a fluttering blur of purple and white stripes just in her vision. Her hair whips against her cheeks, black lashing in and out to obscure her view of the dark sea. She squints against the wind, buttons up, and, a hood would be nice right now. But she guesses the wind would blow it straight off anyway.

She tucks her hair behind her ears in vain, because apparently she doesn’t have a hair tie in her pocket anymore, and heads toward the front of the boat. Sure the wind will be worse there, but the sooner she can see Cinnabar, the better.

Cinnabar is a cliffside of trees against the night sky as far as she can tell. She expected it to look… taller, somehow, famous as it is for its volcano. But maybe the volcano just isn’t that visible from this side of the island. The base of those cliffs or hills or maybe this does count as the base of the volcano, is dotted by orange and yellow lights, save for the harbor lit up in white. Kenneth is down there somewhere.

She pulls her phone out and calls him. It barely finishes ringing once before he answers all sing-song, “I think I see you.”

Is he under one of the waiting areas? Or inside the terminal? She squints like she’ll be able to make him out from this far away. “Are you outside?”

“No, it’s freezing,” he scoffs. “I didn’t grab a jacket.”

Kenneth, unprepared? That’s new. “I bet it’s not as windy as it is up here.”

“I won’t argue that.”

“What, are you walking around in a T-shirt? It’s not exactly summer.”

“Long-sleeve button-down. It was warm earlier.” She can hear the shrug in his voice.

She hums. “Figures the first time I see Cinnabar, it’s the start of November. Where’s my beach arc.”

He laughs. She’ll get to hear him in person in a few minutes, and she’s excited for it like she hasn’t seen him in months again. It’s only been five days. “Next summer.”

“Gross.”

“It’s probably still too cold even on the Sevii Islands right now. Best bet is leaving the region.”

Does he just know that off the top of his head? Or has he been paying attention because Bill’s still out there. She sighs melodramatically. “I guess we’re going to Alola then.”

“Oh, I get to come?” he says playfully.

Well of course, but now she has to roll with his tone. “Yeah. I’m gonna need someone to grill food for me while I’m out swimming.”

He sucks his teeth.

She laughs.

They’re silent for a bit, just the sound of the terminal on his end and the wind on hers. It’s peaceful. It makes her think of her better days with him in Celadon, sitting on the couch doing separate things but still with each other. She shifts her phone to her other ear so her left hand can take point against the cold, and barely catches the sound of a page turning. “Reading?”

“Yeah, it—”

She grins. A perfect opportunity, she can’t let it slide. “Is it the smut I got you?”

“N— _no_!”

She cackles.

“Fuck’s sake… It’s one of the books you got me as an _actual_ gift.”

“Aw, I’m sure you liked the smut just as much.”

He sighs deeply.

“That wasn’t a no,” she sings.

“ _Naomi_.”

She giggles. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you to your not-smut, then.” 

His next sigh is half a growl. She grins, but she’ll keep quiet this time.

They let the silence envelop them again, murmurs in one ear, wind in the other. Cinnabar looks small to her. Smaller even than Pallet. She could ask him if there’s anything fun to do around here, just to ask him something. But the quiet is nice.

It’s the sound of the foghorn that breaks it. She jumps, he hisses, “Fuck,” and she laughs at him. “Shut up,” is all he says back, with an eye roll in his tone.

She smiles. She was already smiling, but her smile gets big enough now that she may as well not have been. She’ll be off this boat soon enough and he’ll be around and it’ll feel like everything’s in the right place again. “I’ll see you inside in a few minutes?”

“Oh. I was gonna come outside.”

Which is sweet, but, “Nah, I don’t want you to freeze. Uh, if you want, we could go by the mansion so you can grab your jacket?” Blaine’s place can’t be that far in a town so small, can it?

“No, it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause I don’t want you to be cold.”

“I’m fine,” he says, stretching out his words. “Just come inside, I’ll be by the door.”

“Alright!” She smiles. Again. Could the boat dock just a little faster? “I’ll see you in a bit then.”

“Yeah.”

The next five minutes are some of the longest of her life. She waits and waits and walks down the gangplank with her heart stirring. Her legs want to take off once she sets foot on land, but she walks like she’s calm and collected and not all excited to see her best friend again. She didn’t realize she missed him so much.

They spot each other before she steps inside the terminal. She feels bouncy when she sees him—white button-down, hands in his pockets, smile on his face, and, a beard?—but she manages not to sprint toward him.

As soon as she reaches him, she tucks her arms between his back and his backpack and hugs him tightly, with a drawn out, “Hi!” Maybe she hugs him too tightly or just startled him somehow; he doesn’t hug her back or say anything right away.

But when he does, he does so warmly and with a quiet, “Hey.”

She wouldn’t mind staying here, in this moment. Maybe he wouldn’t either. He doesn’t try to end the hug or anything.

She relaxes, and shuts her eyes, and maybe they’re hugging for a lot longer than they usually do, but she doesn’t mind.

But what if he’s thinking about that too, and he _does_ mind? “It feels like it’s been really long,” she mumbles. Maybe talking will distract him and he won’t cut the hug short.

“Yeah,” he whispers. His tone is, weirdly, unfamiliar to her. Sad, maybe? It’s gone by the time he says, “Five days feels like a lot when you’re with someone for a week.”

“Mm.” He’s warm. Tangible. Too often, he isn’t, far away in Pallet and only there on a screen. It’ll go back to that soon, won’t it? Once she’s done with her badges and he goes back home? And then she has to wait until April for him to be just a city over? And even then they might only get to see each other every other week? Her heart stirs, but this time it reminds her of hiding in his guest bedroom. “You miss me a lot too, then?” She should’ve said it more teasingly but. She’s tired.

He laughs softly. “Yeah.”

She smiles.

She shifts, just to rest her head against his shoulder more comfortably, but his beard scratches her forehead. His beard. Or, well, it’s more like something between stubble and a proper beard, but still. She pulls back enough to scratch at it. He doesn’t fully let go of her. Just rests his hands at the small of her back and between her shoulder blades. “You’re all scruffy,” she says. His eyes go a little wide, and he looks away from her. “What happened, you’re usually clean-shaven when I see you.”

Is he _pouting_? “Lost track of time, I guess,” he mutters.

That’s weird for him too. Forgetting his jacket and now this? Maybe it’s not that big a deal but, she just has a feeling she can’t ignore. She could be straightforward and ask, but for now, she goes with the question, “How is everything?” Which, well, “I mean, I know I pretty much asked like ten minutes ago but.” He should know why she’s asking again.

He glances at her, and he looks almost… surprised? Nervous? Is she making him feel bad?

He starts, “Uh, it’s—” at the same time she steps away from him saying, “Sorry, I—”

He lets go of her now. She tugs on his sleeves before reluctantly doing the same.

She can’t pinpoint the look in his eyes, and it’s unsettling that she can’t. “Um,” she says. She focuses on the buttons on his shirt, moves to smooth out the wrinkles she left. She shakes her head. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I dunno.”

“Think I should be asking you that,” he mumbles.

Oh. Maybe. She smiles shyly. “Yeah. I feel better.”

“That’s good…”

She tugs on his shirt. He sounds so quiet. “You and your nerd shirt…”

He snorts and tugs on the collar of her jacket. “You and your jock jacket.”

She grins. That’s better. “Mind if we grab some food?”

“Yeah,” he says, starting for the exit. “I’m hungry too.”

She falls into step beside him. There’s one last thing she needs to say, and she feels shy about it, but she has to say it. It’s not like he’s obligated to help her keep her mental health in check. “Hey, um… Thanks for picking me up, it… I feel a lot better already.”

He looks at her warmly. “Of course.”

* * *

She’s really tempted to steal some of his rice. Just to steal it. Just because he’d give her a dead-eyed stare while she did it, and she’d grin at him and laugh on the inside. She’d laugh on the outside too, but she’d have a mouth full of rice so if she laughed, it’d just be through her nose and somewhere in her throat, muffled by food and the threat of choking on it. The only reason why she doesn’t try to steal his rice is because he’s sitting _just_ far enough away from her on the floor of her Center room that she wouldn’t be able to do so with any amount of grace. Maybe he planned for that.

She frowns at his carton of takeout, clicks her chopsticks, and settles for picking up her own rice. “Now see, if you’d just gone and paid for your own hotel room, I could stay with you and we wouldn’t be eating on,” she glances at the floor, “this nasty carpet.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, holding a piece of broccoli up to his mouth. “Way too much money for a whole month.”

Please, like his parents couldn’t easily cover that for him. They owe him way more than that anyway. She holds her nose up playfully. “I’m just saying, you could’ve kept us _both_ comfortable.”

He chews patiently, amusement in his eyes, and swallows before saying, “Really, you’re concerned about _both_ of us?”

She grins at him and goes back to her food. “What’s it like staying with them anyway?”

“Awkward as fuck. But Blaine insisted and said there was room and, _there’s room_ ,” he says, punctuating his words with a wide-eyed nod. “Enough that I don’t have to see anyone else if I don’t want to, at least.”

“Silver linings?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you all go to the labs together in the mornings?” She grins. It’s a funny image. Blaine babbling about nonsense, Giovanni scowling at everything he says, Fuji doing whatever it is that he does, and Kenneth, the awkward child strapped in the back seat. “That sounds like a fun carpool.”

“Nah, they head out there earlier than I do. It’s not that far a walk, actually. But I’ve had James fly me there so he can stretch his wings.”

That hurts a little. Even the mention, the idea of it. And it shouldn’t. It really, _really_ shouldn’t. Why should it bother her that he gets to keep his starter when he’s hardly even a trainer, but _she_ …

She shoves some broccoli into her mouth and bites as hard as she can. It’s steamed, but it’s the crunchiest thing she has to chew on. “And the work?” she asks around it. “You said you couldn’t say much but.”

She looks up at him. She expects to find him grinning because ignoring nondisclosure agreements is fun, and she has a feeling he’d actually tell her in person if he won’t over the phone. But he’s frowning at his food, poking at it like he can’t make up his mind about whether or not he wants to tell her, which… Well, she didn’t think he would be that serious about it but if that’s actually the case… “You don’t have to, you know,” she tells him.

He blinks and shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s—” He sighs and lowers his food. “Okay, so. While I was in Celadon helping Giovanni out with—I guess it sort of counts as prep work for all… this. Um… But, yeah, while I was helping him with that, Blaine and Fuji were out on Sevii trying to find a Mew.”

She raises an eyebrow. A Mew. Okay. They may as well have been trying to find God, but okay.

He purses his lips. “And they did.”

“What,” she deadpans.

He nods at her, with some quirk to his lips like he still can’t believe it either. “Yeah. So they—”

“ _What_?”

“I know.”

“How do you just—”

“I don’t know, but they found one, somehow. And tagged it and got genetic material ‘cause they want to clone it.”

She peers at him. Blinks. “Okay…”

“Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Giovanni said something about using this to revive extinct species, things like that, but I—” He sighs. “I don’t know, I feel… iffy about it? And I don’t know if it’s because of what they’re doing, or if it’s the _way_ they’re doing it? Like, they talk about it sometimes almost like they just want to see if they _can_ do it, you know? So— I-I dunno. Just…”

He pulls a face, and it kind of matches the feeling in her stomach. A twist, almost. It takes away her appetite, and she sets her chopsticks in her takeout carton. “A bad feeling?”

“Yeah.”

She frowns. “Well… I mean, it’s not like you really knew what exactly it was that you were signing up for—”

“That Gramps was signing me up for.”

Right. “That Oak signed you up for,” she corrects. “Did he know?”

He shakes his head. “He would’ve told me what it was if he knew. Might not have even asked, I mean, how often do you expect your friends and colleagues to do something as ethically questionable as cloning a Mew.” He scoffs bitterly and slouches. “Bet my parents would be all over it though…”

Oh. Is that what this is about? Should she ask? She never quite knows how to approach this with him outside of shittalking his parents somewhat. But if that’s why he’s been uncomfortable with the job, and _that’s_ why he’s been, maybe, distracted enough to lose track of time and not prepare for the weather… Well, okay, those are little things that she’s maybe holding onto too much but still. She takes up her chopsticks again, pokes at her rice, and, fuck it, she may as well ask. “Is that what’s been bothering you lately?”

She stares through her food.

He doesn’t reply.

She looks up at him. She doesn’t like his expression. It’s sad, angry, annoyed, and tired all at once. It reminds her of the day she met his parents, how they sat on his living room floor with their backs to the adults, desperately focused on whatever video game they were playing together. She could feel him stewing next to her the whole time.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she whispers.

He scowls. Takes a deep, shaky breath.

She wants to hug him.

He licks his lips, and says quietly, “I hate… that sometimes I just— I’m… scared I’ll end up like them…”

What? No. That’s not happening. Her heart sinks but hammers in her chest all the same, and she jabs at her food. She wishes his parents were here, right now, she has so much she wants to say to them. “You’re not ending up like your parents.”

He exhales loudly through his nose.

It sounds annoyed, disbelieving, and she looks up at him. She’s not letting him think his fear is right. “You’re not. I promise you that.”

He shakes his head. “Can’t promise me that…”

She frowns. Okay, fine. She scoots over to him and pokes his cheek with her chopsticks. She almost cracks a grin at the look he gives her, but this is serious. “No, I _can_ promise you that. ‘Cause I know you. So. You have to believe me.”

He blinks at her. It’s like he searches for something in her eyes. He looks a little lower, and then away, chews on the inside of his lip, and picks up his food again. “I guess.”

Gods, she— She scowls and she wants to say _some_ thing, she doesn’t even know what but— The frustration leaves her in one short, quiet breath. She just wants to be able to help him. To make him feel better. “Kenneth…”

He slowly stops poking at his food and sighs. “Sorry, I—”

“No, that-that’s not anything for you to apologize for, I just— I just wish I knew how to make you feel better about it…”

She almost misses the change in the set of his shoulders, but she catches the way he deflates.

“Kenneth, you won’t be anything like your parents.” She nudges his shoulder with hers and smiles a little. “You’re too good a person for that.”

He spends a few seconds maybe processing her words, and slouches and leans toward her just so, arms barely touching. “Thanks…”

She leans against him. If she can’t hug him, she can do that at least. “Of course.” She pokes at her food and thinks to leave it there but, she should say this. “You know you mean a lot to me, right?”

He nods and smiles a little. But there’s something sad about the look on his face and the way he says, “You mean a lot to me too…”

He means it, she knows, but… She wishes she knew how to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, another third person part so soon. ^^' This was actually originally written from Aya's POV, with these two chilling on the beach at night just talking, but there was so much that I wanted to get across in dialogue that I just couldn't have done from a Pokemon POV. If nothing else, writing this made me realize how much I miss third person lmao. Second person's fun but oh man I can't wait to go back to my first love...


	61. Chapter 61

The girl brings you to a place where the ground—it isn’t dirt, you don’t know what it is—yields too easily. It slips between your claws, impossible to handle and hard to find your footing on. It moves ineffectively, and the more you force it, the harder it is to control it.

“It’s sand, Aya,” she tells you. It _won’t_ move the way dirt does. This is something you’ll have to relearn, and you’ll do it with or without her help; it’s aggravating to feel that you _can_ control it but that it won’t listen to you.

The not-dirt isn’t the only point of interest here. Beyond the loose ground, on the horizon, lies an undulating blue, roiling with a sound that’s as constant and comforting as your kin’s. This becomes the backdrop for your next three days here, the rumbling blue in your ears and the slippery ground beneath your feet as you run. You all run: you, the girl, Curly, Fuzz Ball, and Red Eyes—well, he flies, you suppose.

Blue never shows up. You get the feeling he won’t ever again, or at least, he won’t for a long time. You don’t think too much about it, but sometimes you remember him, when the girl slows down or when she sits and stares at the blue in the distance.

She catches you peering at her one day while she rests and you think of him. You catch the blur of a smile on her face when she says, “Moving’s good. It’s not perfect, but I’d get more caught up in my thoughts if I stayed inside… And Kenneth’s busy working, so…”

She pays more attention to you than the others. She spends a good amount of time with Curly too, but most of her time goes to you, and she approaches you with a lot more calm and a lot more distance than she does with Curly. Like she wants to meet you at your level rather than her own. You appreciate that.

She makes the not-dirt easier to work with, mixing in soil that she brings from you don’t know where, and as the days pass, you need less and less soil to make the not-dirt move the way you want it to. By the third time she brings you all out here, you don’t need any soil at all. You can part the ground where you want to, can lift it and shape it, grain by grain, and you’re not surprised by how quickly you learned to this. It’s only natural for you to conquer something so quickly.

It’s a welcome surprise when she takes only you to a place where the ground is more familiar, and you can move the earth as effortlessly as a claw. It’s satisfying, exciting, even, and you get the feeling that the girl wants to hug you or pat your head the way she often does with Curly. But she keeps her distance and speaks in a way that makes you feel proud over the nervous twinge in your muscles.

You know what that feeling means.

“Might be ready for Blaine, then,” she mumbles. “You’re definitely quick enough, so as long as you can land a hard hit—and even if not, Emi could take over and between the two of you…”

You scrape a claw over the dirt, pushing away the nervousness, welcoming and relishing your excitement.

She notices, and the nerves leave. “No, you’re right. We… We should be set. I’ll schedule our battle with Blaine,” she says slowly, “and if anything we can train a little more while we wait.” 

She stands uncertainly, hands fidgeting, head tilted down, in that way that you know by now means something negative. But something about it—the air around her, or maybe just your own thoughts—something feels determined and agreeable. It’s about time, whatever it is. “I think this is something I want to finish anyway…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This author's stories are part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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	62. Chapter 62 — She

The directions Kenneth texts her are simple enough. _Just go left when you leave the center and follow the road, there’s a fork that leads toward the volcano. You’ll see it from the main road_. So simple that twice she’s wondered if maybe she did end up missing the giant lab building because she was too busy staring at the water or taking stock of all the brightly colored shops along the oceanfront. She’s spent the last three days only going between the Center and the beach. The only detour she’s taken was to a nearby cafe for breakfast or lunch, or grabbing takeout at the place Kenneth brought her for dinner, if the place was open late enough.

She frowns a little at a cute clothing store with its Friday hours open only from 10AM to 8PM. Their Sunday hours are worse, from noon to 6PM. But maybe that’s just how things are on sleepy islands. It makes her miss home, a little bit.

She takes note of a few other eateries to check out one of these days—none of them strictly tea shops, unfortunately—and a bookshop she could maybe take Kenneth to, if he hasn’t already gone there himself. He probably has.

A gust of wind forces her to button up her letterman jacket just as she comes to the fork in the road Kenneth was talking about. He was right, she definitely wouldn’t have missed the lab. It’s not a massive building, just two stories tall, but it’s really out of place among the much more quaint buildings she’s seen. It’s wide, with tall windows and a weird, slanted roof covered in solar panels. The building’s solid white on the outside, bright against the greenery that climbs up to the volcano behind it, and somehow muted compared to the blues and pinks and yellows of the town. Either someone missed the memo, or someone wanted to make some sort of cliched statement about science.

So she’s surprised by the interior of the lab. Faded red linoleum that looks like it’s thirty years old. Beige walls that, somehow go with the floor? Bright paintings hung at odd intervals. Plants that look like they don’t belong in a lab, hanging from the ceiling or crawling up the walls or along whatever furniture they can get a hold of. At the front, just off to the side of the unoccupied front desk, there’s a pair of chairs, one of which has its back covered in yellowing leaves that look like they’ve hung on for months.

So in all, it screams _Blaine_.

Why does it reminds her of Dad?

“Naomi!”

She flinches at the sound of his voice. Blaine always manages to be too loud when he doesn’t need to be, and quiet enough when he shouldn’t be; she didn’t hear his footsteps at all.

He’s in his usual getup: slacks, button-down shirt, round sunglasses hooked where a tie should be but honestly he probably doesn’t even own one. Does he wear anything else? He was wearing the same thing when she ran into him in Cerulean, wasn’t he? Maybe he was wearing a polo shirt or something. That probably passes as casual for him.

She doesn’t get the chance to say anything back before he says, “Kenneth told me you were in town, I’ve been expecting you!”

Aw, he talks about her at work? “Yeah, it’s only been a few days.”

“Well, since you’re here,” he says, sweeping his arm toward the hallway leading further into the lab, “how about I give you a tour of the place?” He leans forward, raises his eyebrows, and smiles almost conspiratorially, like a kid about to get away with something. “Though I’ll be honest,” he says in a hushed but lilting voice, “I’ve been eager to share our work with someone.”

“Oh, well I _have_ been curious,” she says in a matching tone.

He looks surprised as they walk. “Kenneth hasn’t told you anything?”

Nope, nothing at all! She shakes her head, only meeting his eyes for a moment. “Said he wasn’t allowed to.”

He sucks his teeth and waves her words away. “That’s just Giovanni having a stick up his rear. Sure we don’t want just _anyone_ knowing, but we can trust you to keep this a secret, can’t we?”

Her? He must’ve told Oak already, then. “Well if it means I get to be in the loop.” She remembers to smile.

The first thing she notices about the room he takes her to is the giant test-tube-looking thing opposite the door, filled with orange liquid and holding something maybe the size of a Poké Ball. She squints at it, but then she notices there are other people here, and one of them is Kenneth. He smiles at her and gives her a wave—and if he doesn’t look all adorable in a lab coat, just like his grandpa honestly. Beside him, Fuji smiles at her too. And beside _him_ , Giovanni frowns at Blaine.

“We have a guest!” Blaine announces, before anyone can say anything. Before _Giovanni_ can say anything.

She joins in with a little wave. “Hi.”

Giovanni keeps frowning at Blaine. It might’ve been funny if he didn’t always look so scary.

Fuji adjusts the papers in his hands, not looking away from her. “Oh, I remember you, you’re the one taking over the Saffron Gym, correct? Forgive me, your name is…?”

Of course that’s how he’d remember her…

But she can’t frown about it. Has to keep smiling. Can’t and doesn’t strain when she answers, “Naomi.”

She catches the sympathy in Kenneth’s expression at least.

Giovanni sighs. “It’s good to see you again, Naomi,” he says, levelly enough that he might not be completely lying? It’s schooled for sure. He doesn’t really give her a chance to respond with anything more than half a tense nod before he turns to Blaine and says, “Though I thought we were keeping this project under wraps, Blaine.”

“Oh, she won’t tell anyone.”

On anyone else, the disappointed, half-lidded stare Giovanni gives him would’ve made her laugh.

“Naomi, come here,” Blaine says, ushering her toward the giant test tube.

She’s… not exactly glad for it. The Poké-Ball-sized thing looks like the kind of fetus she’s thankfully only had to see before in biology textbooks. Tiny limbs, tiny tail, giant eyes that she swears look straight at her through translucent eyelids. It’s creepy as fuck.

“What… is it?” she asks, if only because saying nothing would probably be rude.

She remembers Dad yelling at her. Nine years old and sitting at the table with him. Trying to think something at him. Angry that she can’t. Mind buzzing with his impatience, with the anxiety he gives her.

He storms out of his seat, and the feeling rushes through her mind, through Mom’s, through Bree’s. He leaves.

Did Mom try to stop him?

Did she herself storm out of her seat too? Sulk in her room? Cry?

“This is our attempt at cloning Mew,” Blaine says, a second or an hour later. She blinks the memory out of her eyes, but her chest feels heavy. “ _I_ want to call it Mewtwo, but these two aren’t for it.”

Where did that come from?

“It’s uninspired,” Giovanni groans.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Blaine says. She straightens at the forcefulness of his voice, and turns away from the memory and that thing, and toward everyone else. Just an intrusive thought. Random memories coming at awkward times. “It’s only been ten days and already we’ve had such incredible progress,” he continues. “I expect it would only need another two weeks at maximum before it’s fully formed.”

That quick?

“There’s a lot we’ll be able to do if we succeed here,” Fuji chimes in. “What we learn here would allow us to do so much for various species of Pokémon, and would have practical applications in battling as per Giovanni’s research as well.”

“Right…” Her skin crawls, and she scratches at her arm. She catches Kenneth’s gaze, and she can tell they’re both wondering the same thing. “A lot of good you’d be able to do, right?”

“Absolutely,” Fuji says, without missing a beat. He’s at least more… believable than the other two.

But her question still hangs in the air, something heavy about the second of silence that falls between them all, pressing on her like a need for a way out.

She did storm to her room and cry that day, didn’t she.

And she came here for a specific reason.

She scratches at her arm again, glances at Kenneth. He’s got his head down going through some papers, but he peers up in time to meet her eyes again. Like there’s something…

She turns to Blaine. “Oh, the whole reason I came over here,” she says, breaking a four-second long silence that felt like longer. “I know you’re busy with all this but, I was wondering if you’d be free long enough for a battle soon?”

His face lights up. “Oh, of course, of course! Tomorrow’s Saturday, just swing by the gym at noon, how’s that?”

She nods. Smiles. She knows it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Sounds good.”

“Always so distracted,” Giovanni grumbles. Okay, he probably won’t agree to a battle any time soon, but she’ll at least have Blaine out of the way, and then…

And then… She’ll have eight badges. She’ll be done. And back on her way to Saffron signing paperwork and gathering a proper team and the gym will be under her name and Bree will be off in Unova but keeping tabs on her and her parents will be so proud but she—

Dad never apologized. For storming off and giving up on her.

She scratches her arm again and looks at the tube. Her heart sinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another instance of needing to make an Aya part a third person part. ^^' It works a lot better in third person though, and I managed to get in there a little of Naomi's perspective on what happened with her dad.
> 
> Anyway I'll just stand back here and :3c
> 
> * * *
> 
> This author's stories are part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * "<3" as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> If you'd prefer not to receive a reply from me, just sign your comment with "whisper" and I will quietly appreciate your support~ <3


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